


Those Who Wander

by HDLynn



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Culture Shock, F/M, Language Barrier, Mild Language, Slow Burn Romance, Time Travel, battle violence, book & movie verse, emt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-09
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-24 05:43:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 39,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/631073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HDLynn/pseuds/HDLynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Beth Hale goes home after her grandfather's death, she losses a home in one day and ends up finding more than she ever could have dreamed. She finds herself in the company of strangers who should  only exist in fairy tales. With just  some tricks hidden in her bag and a little bit of a language barrier will she ever find somewhere that will pass for home again?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Belated Birthday

 

It had been six months, and Beth was still not ready. Yet here she was driving up the familiar gravel lane with the bright green spring leaves on the trees lining the way. Even though it had been a long time since she had been here Beth still knew where all the potholes where hidden and where the road overlooked the pond.

The road was not that long but it took longer since she was driving at a snail’s pace. She had taken the week off to come up here and now she was not sure if she was ready yet. But since the drive was too small to turn the car around in she just had to keep on it. At the end of the drive was the ever familiar shed that stood across from her grandfather’s home. Or at least where he use to live. It was just over six months ago when he had fallen ill and passed away. With the whirlwind of funeral arrangements, her job, and everything else she hadn’t had time to go through the old house.

The grass had been cut recently, and Beth thanked heaven that the neighbor’s boy had looked after the yard for her. She was living four hours away and would have come to a jungle if he hadn’t. The house itself was in need in a new coat of paint but otherwise looked exactly like it did when she was last there. It was the house her grandfather had built for her grandmother. Where her father had grown up and where she had lived with her grandfather after her parents had passed away when she was only 12.

Beth did not know how long she sat in the car, but by the time she had gotten up the courage to get out it was nearly noon. She got out a cooler from the back and proceeded to go to the porch door. The lock stuck with misuse but the door opened when she pushed hard enough. The rain from the night before had made the wood expand and it had not wanted to open.

The house, though slightly musty, still smelled like it always had. Though he had been a widower when she had lived with him Beth’s grandfather had always kept the house tidy and even at 80 years old he was well able to live on his own until he became sick. The fridge was empty when she opened it to put what little food she had brought with her. Milk, eggs, cheese, lunch meats, and the like would keep her well fed for the next week as she went through everything. Beth hated to come to the realization, but she just could not afford the upkeep for her grandfather’s place on top of her apartment. So here she was to do some upkeep and go through his possessions. To find stuff to donate, sell and some few precious and sentimental items to keep before she had to sell the house.

The clock of the mantle chimed noon but Beth was not in the mood for lunch yet. She just stood on the worn yet clean carpet, half expecting her grandfather to come up from the basement from his workshop and make her eat something but that would never happen again. Shaking her head to keep the tears at bay, Beth went back to his room. The floor creaked with every step since he was no longer nailing the ever loose boards back down.

The door to grandfather’s room was open and the blinds up so the noon sun shone in with a yellow warmth. On his desk sat the long wooden box just like he had told her when he had been laying in the hospital bed. He had been so upset that he would not be around for her birthday and had wanted to make sure she got the present he had been working on. But after the funeral she had not been in any mood for birthdays the next month and had thrown herself into work taking every extra shift that Beth could get her hands on. Now she could not put it off any longer.

 

*

 

Sitting on the edge of her bed in the room on the other side of the hallway, Beth let her hands go over the smooth wood of the box before pushing in the little latch. It gave a satisfying click before she opened the lid. What lay inside was a revolver that she had grown up seeing and had learned to shoot with. Her grandfather had taught her to shoot with this gun as well as self defense. Honestly he had been a rather awesome grandfather, and she had sometimes wondered what he had been like when he was younger but in that area he had not expounded on.

She carefully took the gun by the wooden grip and proceeded to examine in. The metal shone as if brand new, even though it had been made in the 70’s. Grandfather had obviously spent a lot of time restoring it. She opened up the barrel to find it empty but it still smelled of the cleaning oil and gunpowder. The smell was sharp, metallic and smoky. It brought the memory of many a winter night she had spent helping clean the rifles and other guns her grandfather had kept. She noticed that he had apparently modified the gun to have a safety switch; he was always a stickler for safety. Grandfather had been a regular boy scout at times.

She snapped the box shut and almost put it away when Beth saw the pathway into the forest out her window. She stood there for a moment unsure of what she wanted to do but was soon had stuffed her old college bag with the box, some ammo boxes, lunch and her old metal water bottle. The screen door slammed shut as she walked out not bothering to lock the door behind her. She was out in the middle of nowhere where nothing happened and she was more than able to protect herself.

The pathway to the shooting range was a bit overgrown but nothing she could not handle. The air smelled of dirt and leaves as dew hid in the undergrowth beneath the trees. Not far down the path it opened up into a wide clearing that ran up onto a rise in the ground where the targets where set up. Any stay bullets went straight into the hill and stayed there. Right now all Beth wanted to do was shoot that hill full of holes.

Setting the bag down she took the revolver out and loaded it with the last six bullets that where in the first ammo box, she was sure to go through the other 50 in the second by the time she was done. She lined up the sights with the metal target one hundred feet away, clicked off the safety and quickly emptied all the chambers into the target.

She opened the gun back up to get out the spent casing only to find that she was crying. Wiping away the tears she tried to shove the gun back into the case but now it would not close all the way. Angrily she tried to get the lid to shut again but it still refused. Ripping the lid open again Beth finally noticed why it would not shut. The gun was pushed up higher than it should have been; the velvet lining seemed to have moved. Beth put the gun on top of her bag and carefully pried up the now apparent false bottom.

There were only two things in the bottom; a piece of paper with strange markings that she could on assume was some type of foreign language but she could not make heads or tails of it and under that was a pin in the shape of a star. But it was quite unlike the five sided stars she was use to, this one had six. It seemed rather old and worn and on the back of it was a single word inscribed on the back. Beth turned the pin over and over in her hand; the cool metal seemed to not want to get warm. Unbuttoning her jacket she pinned it to her shirt so she did not lose it. Surely if her grandfather had kept and hidden the pin it had to have been important to him. Maybe she would ask her old roommate in university to look it over; she always had been great with foreign languages and loved translating the stuff.

Hearing a disturbance in the woods Beth stuffed everything back into the box thankful that it shut this time. She shoved it in her bag before she started into the woods to investigate. This land was posted for no hunting but there was always the occasional lost hunter sometimes needed pointed in the right direction. She did not notice at all that the clearing she had just walked out of did not have the metal target nor the hill riddled with bullets. In fact it was a different clearing altogether.

 


	2. Under the Yew Tree

Chapter Two

 

Beth scrambled up the hill. The deer path was steep and narrow but her slender frame and short stature helped out in that department. For how tall her father and grandfather had both been she had taken after her mother in the height area. The ground was muddier than she had anticipated and Beth had slipped more than once since her boots did not have the best traction. It was worse going then the ever changing sand dunes that lined the Western Sea.

This section of wood was thicker and older than she remembered it being and while the brush was thick it was not too tall for her to get through. The trees smelled of damp and moss and the green leave fluttered slightly in the breeze, but their musical sound did not drown out the talking that was going on just beyond the hill. When she got to the top of the hill she hung back and hid in the bushes, her gut told her it might be unwise to just charge down into the little valley before her.

Her hiding place overlooked the whole scene. But instead of hunters or a group of boy-scouts like one who had gotten lost last summer there was a small group of strangely dressed and bearded men. Normally she might have laughed at such a description but this group looked in general very serious looking even if they looked as if they where historical actors that might have rolled around on the ground a few times. Not to mention that there were three huge and ugly sculptures that she had no idea where they had come from. There had never been anything like that in these woods. In fact the only thing that should have been in this little valley was a pile of rocks.

Beth crotched down quietly and tried to overhear what these men were saying, it might just give her an idea of what might be going on. But Beth could not be sure if she could not hear well enough or if they were speaking in another language. She decided to stay put and see if she could figure it out whichever it might be.

All in all there were thirteen people down there. The one that stood out the most was the tallest man who had a long white beard, long grey tunic and a pointy grey hat, not what she had expected to find in the woods today. There was also one of the shorter men who seemed to be the leader in his confident mannerism and his solid stance and his hand jauntily on the sword strapped to his side.

 

*

 

Thorin Oakenshield stood looking at the three trolls now frozen into stone. Only a few days into the Company’s quest to retake Erebor and they had already been almost permanently stopped. To think that he almost had led his people and even his own nephews to their deaths unnerved him but Thorin was not one to show anything other than a strong figure for his men to follow.

After having gone through the troll’s hole their spirits had been lifted by the food, gold and weapons they had found. This was of course the topic that everyone was talking about and Thorin could not have lied about how infatuating he found his new blade, Orcrist, to be. This heavy yet perfectly balanced grip had several peerless gems set into it and the blade itself was made of one solid piece of superbly forged metal from where it met the hilt, the curve in blade to its tapered tip was perfect. He grudgingly admitted that even for an elvish blade he could not have done any better himself.

Movement on the hill top above them quickly forced Thorin’s thoughts from the makers of Orcrist. He did not move his head but his sharp eyes could see a small shape crouching down in the bushes, obviously it must be a scavenger orc that survived on the scraps the trolls left behind when they had to return to their cave. He was not about to let the beast call any others that where in the area, so Thorin waved Fíli to his side. Fíli was the more levelheaded of his sister’s sons and one of the best with a bow.

“Do not look worried, but there is an orc hiding up on the hillside underneath the bushes at the base of the old yew.” Thorin said without making any motion in that direction so not to show their hand.

“And you want me to take care of our little spy?” Fíli asked rhetorically as he strung his bow out of sight. “I’ll take care of it, do not worry Uncle.”

And before Thorin could blink Fíli had put an arrow on the string, swung around and fired into the bush. There was a cry of surprise that came from the bushes and a glint of silver when the figure scrambled away in a crash of brush and leaves.

Fíli shot forward in pursuit and called his bother to follow him as he set chase. As everyone else in the party stared at them in confusion. “Let’s not let that spying orc get away Kíli!”

Thorin swore under his breath and went after his hair brained nephews, just in case they got themselves in trouble again. Dís would kill him if anything was to happen to her sons. He ignored when Gandalf called out, not really hearing whatever the old wizard had said anyways.

 

*

 

When an arrow sprouted out of the tree not five inches from Beth’s face she could not help the cry that sprang out from her mouth. She jumped away on instinct and half fell half ran back down the path she had come up. Even when she heard several people running through the thicket behind her, Beth could not run fast enough since she kept falling back down.

Leaves where stuck in her hair, mud covered her and thorns had pieced her palms but adrenalin kept Beth from feeling them. Even with adrenalin pumping through her veins Beth could hear her pursuers getting closer. As she ran Beth got her bag off her back and was trying to get out her gun box when a harsh voice called out right behind her.

Beth, unable to open the bag, swung it around instead and hit the closest man in the face. There was a loud crack when the heavy wooden box inside the bag connected with the man’s jaw and down he went. Whether he was unconscious or not, Beth did not take the time to stop to find out when another man not far behind the first cried out in fury. She turned and ran but only got a few steps before she was tackled by the other pursuer.

The impact caused her bag to fly out of her grasp, and at the loss of her only weapon Beth did the only thing she could do. Knee the guy where it would hurt the most. That did the trick, and when he curled up in pain Beth took advantage of the moment and put him into the chokehold her grandfather had taught her. She almost lost her hold of the man beneath her when she heard what sounded like a wounded bear bellowing. She looked up to see a dark haired man with sword in hand barreling down the hill towards her.

 

*

 

Thorin had not been running behind Fíli and Kíli very fast, until he heard a loud crack and Kíli yell in rage. He knew instantly something had gone wrong and assumed only the worst which was an orc ambush. Drawing his sword Thorin raced towards his kin. Even if there was a horde of orcs of the other side of the hill he was not about to let his nephews die on his watch. 

When he reached and then passed the top of the hill Thorin did not see a horde of orcs but he did see Fíli layout cold on the ground and Kíli being choked by a mud covered figure. Thorin Oakenshield saw red and bellowed wrathfully as he raced towards the figure on his sister’s son. He lifted Orcrist with both hands and ran to kill whoever was injuring his kin, new blade or not he knew he was able to sever their head without harming a hair on Kíli’s beard.

Thorin kicked the muddy thing off of Kili violently and stepped over his nephew’s gasping form. Whenhe saw the figure look up at him with fear and pain filled eyes, Thorin could not help but feel some type of satisfaction at knowing his face would be the last those eyes would see before death. The blade whistled through the air as he swung to kill.

 

*

 

Beth was frozen in place as she watched the sword come down towards her in slow motion. She started to push herself away but knew in the back of her mind that it would be too little too late.

 


	3. A Grey Savior

Chapter Three

 

Beth did not see her life flash before her eyes as the shape blade descended towards her. There was no time to regret or reflect on the past 26 years of her life. She could only futilely try to roll out of the way but she knew that she was dead. She could not shut her eyes and for a moment wondered if it would hurt when all of a sudden there was a shower of sparks in front of her face and part of her right cheek began to burn.

The tall man in grey now stood between her and the angry bear of a warrior and she was certain that he was going to get run through by the look on the dark haired man’s face. The sound of the two swords hitting each other caused her ears to ring so badly that she could barely hear the men who had just tried to kill her yell angrily at her grey savior. When the man in grey responded she was able to hear correctly yet she could not understand what was being said, some of the words sounded familiar yet it was not. She did not know what it was.

Beth figured while those two where arguing and the other two were still on the ground now could not be a better time to skedaddle. The only problem with that plan, however, was the explosion of pain that came from her lower ribs when she tried to sit up. The pain was so great that she felt as if she would either pass out or hurl. She ended up vomiting onto a pair of boots that had appeared in front of her.

With what little she had for breakfast now splattered on the ground and those muddy boots Beth’s head cleared enough to see a concerned bearded face with a huge hat set on top which made his plaited hair stick out to the sides in a manner that would have been comical if she did not feel like crap.

Why do they all have to have beards? She thought absentmindedly, for once she did not feel like she had to attack. Not that she was able to curl up in a ball on the forest floor, but the scruffy man’s concerned eyes quieted her nerves.

He said something in the odd language to her with hands held open in the universal sign of peace, otherwise known as showing that he had nothing in either hand that could harm her. He moved to push away her jacket and Beth froze instead of lashing out. Somehow knowing from her experience as an EMT that he wanted to check on her ribs and was not about to suddenly gut her or something worse.

He made a grimace when he pulled up her shirt high enough to see the area, Beth craned her neck to see for herself and saw that her whole left side was a harsh crimson color and was already starting to deepen into bruised purples. The angry guy’s boots must have steel toes or something for one kick to have left such a mark. Though come to think about it she had been kicked right off the man who was now quite recovered, after all she was not trying to choke him to death just stop him was all.

She was watching the continuing argument between the grey man and the angry one when the man with the hat probed a little too hard at her injury. Beth then decided that dry heaving was in fact worse than throwing up. It was also at that same time when she realized that a large chunk of her hair was now laying on the ground. She reached up and found about a fifth of her hair now only came to about where the stinging wound on her cheek was. It was really only then that she truly realized how close she had come to literally losing her head.

 

*

 

Thorin was not only angry at the Grey Wizard’s meddling. How dare the old man stick his nose in his dealings? The dwarf prince did not want to listen to Gandalf’s words but found himself doing so anyways.

“You have acted hastily, Thorin son of Thráin.” Gandalf boomed at the still boiling dwarf. “You would have killed an innocent child with your rashness.”

At this Thorin bristled ad lashed back, “I see no child. It was no child who layout Fíli senseless with one blow or a child who tried to strangle Kíli. That creature is a danger to this company and deserved to be slain. You meddle with things you should not, wizard. I am tasked with protecting my people and that was what I was doing, I shall not make an apology for that.” He bellowed, only to turn his attention to Bofur hurrying over to the prone figure. Immediately he knew the kindhearted dwarf had sided with Gandalf’s view of the girl and was not happy with that.

“Bofur, stand down!” He barked out.

The kindly dwarf turned slightly, his brow furrowed at the order clearly torn between helping what he thought was a hurting creature and obeying his prince.

Gandalf motioned for him continue, “Go on Bofur, she’ll require a good deal of attending to after that kick she received.”

Watching one of his own listen to someone else over his own commands chaffed at Thorin’s pride. Who was this wizard to order around his dwarves? His people? This thought was interrupted for a moment when the girl proceeded to vomit all over Bofur’s shoes. Thorin could not help but think that it served him right. He tried to listen in to what Bofur was saying to the girl but Gandalf again interrupted.

“Maybe she is not a child, but she is most definitely lost and terrified. Her actions are only what anyone would do if they found themselves being fired upon and hunted like an animal. You would order her death before even knowing whether she is friend or foe.” Gandalf scolded less harshly than before, but Thorin was hardly appeased by his kid-glove handling of the situation.

“Will you have me ask every creature whether they be friend of foe? What next shall I have them sit down to have tea before checking if they would sooner stab anyone of us in the back?” Thorin spit out, now covering up his slight discomfort at finally starting to see just how slight the girl was. The metal coverings of his boot having left a horrible bruise that was already showing itself in the form of a huge mottled bruise on the girl’s pale skin of her side, but he shook off the now increasing sliver of guilt. Gandalf was about to respond when Bofur interrupted.

“Gandalf I think there is something you might want to see.” Spoke up the otherwise quiet dwarf.

Thorin wanted to ignore Bofur and continue his argument but Gandalf had apparently decided it was over for him. The grey clad wizard knelt by the girl his back to the dwarf prince much to Thorin’s chagrin. He looked over and saw that both of his nephews where both back on their feet with nothing but bruises and scrapes. Knowing that they were safe and relatively unhurt he went to stand off to the side behind Gandalf after sliding Orcrist back into its sheath with a satisfying click.

He was met by those brown eyes which instantly became terrified at seeing him again. Thorin could barely contain his disgust at how quickly Bofur was able to quiet her by shushing and petting her head like one would do with a terrified animal. It seemed to work, though she did not let herself take her eyes off him until Gandalf reached over to wipe off the mud from the silver pin on her short tunic. It was the six sided star of the Rangers of the North.

“Where did you get this child?” Gandalf asked the human woman, for the Rangers of the North did not generally accept women into their ranks. Thorin assumed she had stolen it but said nothing least he raise the wizard’s ire again. She gripped the pin with one hand as the blood from her cheek had started to drip down her chin and onto her clothes. The red contrasted with the dirt and mud as did the whites of her eyes.

She looked confused by the question and when she responded it was not in any language he had ever heard before. The sounds where not unlike the common tongue but he nor anyone else in their company could understand what she had said, though from the tone of her voice he could only assume it was a statement of some type. Whether it was about the pin or not, he did not know. But now Thorin could not shake the image of this girl as being anything other than lost and confused and it angered him that he might have been wrong.

 

*

 

Beth knew she had been asked a question, and she had a sneaking suspicion it was about the pin her grandfather had given her.

“I don’t understand what you are saying.” She said quietly, growing in confidence when she was able to look away from the angry one to the man with the grey hat. “The pin in mine, you can’t take it.” She finished as she clutched at the pin. There was a look of general confusion at her obviously strange words which she assumed they did not understand her either. She tried to wipe away the blood that now seemed to be streaming down her face. Accidentally she brushed the gash on her cheek and hissed in pain, only adding to her body’s aches and pains she had managed to gather in such a short amount of time.

She saw the looks that passed between all the men around her, which had increased to about a dozen or so men, all of them bearded with the exception of the shortest. They all seemed to start talking at once. With the exception of the kindly one who was now carefully cleaning off the mud and blood from her face, the grey man who looked extremely perplexed and the bear of a man who now seemed to be staring at her more like a hawk then a short sighted bear.

His electric blue eyes felt like they were boring two holes right through her. Beth was thankful when she winced and looked away as a cloth soaked with wine was used to clean the injury on her cheek. It stung like hell but she not about to start crying now. Beth could be quite obstinate when she wanted to be and she was not about give the man who stared at her with such hate the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

 

*

 

Gandalf pulled at his beard lost in thought. This situation was quickly becoming stranger then he had estimated. The girl spoke in a different language, but its similarities to the common tongue led him to believe that they were related. Some of the words had sounded familiar enough for him to assume that but not able to know what she had said. Right now the best course seemed to be to head to the Imladris. Perhaps Elrond could help in this matter, or at least help identify the Ranger pin in her hold. The half-elven knew many of the rangers since for many generations of their children had been raised in Rivendell. Gandalf thought it highly unlikely that Elrond would know the girl herself but hoped he might know the pin that she wore.

He glanced clandestinely over at Thorin, thankful that the dwarf prince had finally cooled his heels. That dwarf was as thickheaded, stubborn and prideful as most of his kind where but the wizard thanked the Valar that he seemed to have started to see that indeed he had almost killed, as far as they knew, an innocent human woman by acting to rashly. Gandalf could only hope Thorin would study this situation and learn to act less rashly.

Standing back up he groaned as his knees creaked from the effort brushed off his robes and established some order back into the group. “Mr. Baggins,” he started, “I do believe that a skin full of cold water may be not unwelcomed by our guest. Perhaps you should take Fíli and Kíli with you to the stream that is not far so they can clean off the dirt from their cloaks.”

The brothers looked a bit miffed at this but when with the hobbit without complaining or at least not in ear shot.

“Now let us look inside this bag that so neatly knocked out one of our own party.” Gandalf said in a light hearted manner, which he could tell grated on Thorin’s nerves, and he felt quite pleased because of it. He always did so love meddling.


	4. What was in the Box

Chapter Four

While Bofur cleaned the human up and Bilbo rushed back with the water in his usual flustered manner. Thorin watched as Gandalf went through the woman's bag. It was made of a tightly woven canvas-like material with two straps to carry it with like their own packs.

Inside there was a shiny metal bottle with an ingeniously made cap that screwed on tightly enough to keep the water inside from leaking. That had been passed around by all the dwarves so they could all inspect the workmanship. Even Thorin had been impressed by the idea and skill it would have taken to make the two pieces fit so well together, though he highly doubted the girl had made it, her hands where not that of a smithy, they were thin and long much better suited for a healer than a metal worker.

Beneath the bottle was now squished bread, cheese and meat stacked together and wrapped up in some brown colored paper that was not unlike the paper their Burglar had wrapped his provision of cheese in. But this little bit of food was hardly enough for a journey of any length. He knew that there were no human villages for many leagues. It did not make any sense for a human woman to be wandering around alone and with hardly any supplies and apparently no weapons as well.

Next was a sturdily build wooden box, which was the reason why Fíli had been laid out so easily. The corner had left a nasty bruise on Fíli's chin. Gandalf opened it and inside there was a strange metal and wooden object unlike anything the dwarf prince had ever seen. The metal shone with care. It had a handle which was the wooden part which connected with a weirdly mechanical looking part and ended with a long pipe. Thorin could think of no purpose for it and thus assumed that it must be a religious article of some nature. Honestly it looked to be useless otherwise.

It was about when the other dwarves where still looking at the useless hunk of metal that he saw Gandalf pick up a box that looked to be made of paper that had tiny symbols written on it. The wizard opened the box and found row upon row of shiny little bits of lead set into brass cylinders. Gandalf delicately picked one out and sniffed at it, only to wrinkle his nose in thought.  
"Fascinating," he muttered loud enough for Thorin to overhear. "I am not certain of what these are but I feel that I should keep them for now until I can figure out a use for them." Gandalf then turned to the dwarf prince, "It is not like we shall be able to ask our new friend for some enlightenment for some while," and with that the grey wizard hid the box up his sleeve. Most likely in those secret pockets that he was always pulling little odds and ends in.

Thorin decided to not question it; he had other issues to think about. Before all bloody hell had broken loose, Gandalf had been trying to convince him that heading to Rivendell would be the best way to find out the other entrance of Erebor that was hidden in his grandfather's map. But Thorin's hate of the elvish race made that idea impossible in his mind. There had to be another way to decipher the map but as he puzzled over this problem his thoughts were disturbed by a loud crashing in the forests coming towards them.

Instantly he had his sword out, as did all of his men. They were not going to be caught unawares yet again. It sounded like a warg was running towards their position and a large one at that. But when the sounds turned into a figure they could actually see it was no warg.

 

*

 

Beth would have been paying attention to the new comer if not for one thing. That he had been riding a sled pulled by rabbits, rather large rabbits, but rabbits none the less. It was so unbelievable that she was sure that she had hit her head on rock or something but the rabbits stayed solid in appearance as one scratched its ear like a dog might as the other nosed around for bits of leaves and grass to eat.

Beth decided that it had to be the herb that she had been made to eat earlier, it had helped with the pain be obviously had some other side effects. The gentle one with the hat, who she had gathered was named Bofur from much miming and pointing at himself while repeating his name. She had finally understood and pointed to herself and gave her own name in return. After that he had smiled widely at the start of communication and proceeded to put some type of hot herbal compress on her bruised side before wrapping it up in soft linen like fabric. It smelled of rosemary, oats, and spruce and was very hot for a moment but the pain eased quicker then she had anticipated.

But when the sound of howling surrounded them all, Beth suddenly snapped out of it and knew she was not hallucinating. This was all real. From the cut on her cheek, the blood on her hands, the bearded men, the tiny curly headed man who had brought her water, and the rabbits where all real. But when a not one but two huge, ugly, wolf-like, monsters jumped out from the bushes, she cried out in horror and fear. But they where swiftly dispatched by sharp axes and well placed arrows of the group that now surrounded her.

There seemed to be some bit of confusion as what to do next but then the Rabbit man and his rabbits were gone in the blink of an eye, as swiftly as they had appeared they were gone. Her pack had been launched in the air and Bofur had caught it deftly and added it to the one already on his back before helping her up. Beth was extremely grateful and astounded at the power of the painkiller herb he had given her, for this time when she got up there was not the sudden need to throw up. But that thought quickly fled when she found herself being grabbed around the waist by the angry bear man and he grabbed her wrist and pulled her onto his shoulders. His right elbow went around one knee and his hand held onto her closest wrist. Now her legs where on one shoulder while her head and arms on the other, while also leaving his left arm free for the ax he was carrying.

She grimaced when he adjusted her weight to better balance her on his shoulders but she did not dare make a peep since she was afraid that he might just decide to leave her behind and not bother with her at all.

As the whole group started running off in a different direction from the rabbit man, Beth kept as quiet as she could. Even with the fur of her carrier's cloak the armor underneath still dug into her injured side and the compress only did so much for the pain. She could tell now that they were running from more of those giant wolves and that the man on the sled was leading the wolves off in the wrong direction so they could escape.

Trying to be as quiet as possible Beth ended up biting down onto part of her jacket for every stride her once attacker and now rescuer took rattled her ribs so badly she wished she was able to scream. She knew tears where streaming down her face but was only thankful when a wolf jumped down at them all from above she was not truly able to see through her blurry vision. But she could smell it; it was the stench of rancid meat and rank mildew.

That horrible odor and the howls echoing all around made a stone of fear set in her belly that was worse than any pain that the jostling was causing. As they all raced around the grassland she could only pray that they would all survive this chase.

 

*

 

Thorin had known as soon as the wargs had appeared that they would have to act quickly, Radagast was acting as a distraction so they would have time enough to get away. Instantly he had known that the girl was not capable of keeping up with them. He needed Dwalin to have both arms free in case of the worst case scenario and honestly if it had not been for his actions she would not be doubled over in pain and unable too much of anything. So in his mind it only made sense that it should be him to have to carry her.

When he had scooped her up Thorin had accepted her to lash out or struggle, he had just tried to kill her after all. He was surprised when she did not struggle and only made a muffled whimper of pain when he had to readjust her weight.

Even when he had been running with the human on his shoulders Thorin had been thankful for how slight she was. She was not built like a dwarf that much was certain, and she was not wearing pounds upon pounds of armor. He once had to fish both of his nephews out of a river when they had fallen in after a scuffle. Both had been soaking wet and wearing full sets of armor, that had been quite a load, but she was a lightweight in comparison.

When Gandalf yelled for them all to jump down a hidden stone cavern, he paused for a moment before having Dwalin slide down with the girl. So he could make sure everyone else got in then he jumped down right out of the way of a warg that had an arrow in its skull.

 

*

Gandalf led them down the narrow ledge that he knew led to valley where Imladris was situated; he hoped that Thorin and the other dwarves would act more…cordial when they got there. But that was a risk he was willing to take with a map none of them could read, a wounded woman with a Dúnedain pin in her possession and did not speak the common tongue. And those metal cylinders filled with a similar powder that he used for his fireworks, the wizard could smell the bite of sulfur mixed with metal. He could only presume they were weapons of some nature but did not know how such a tiny item could be used for that intention.

Gandalf could only hope that Elrond could help on at least one if not all these questions that he had. Though the piece for paper he had slipped out of the girl's wooden box burned in the secret pocket in his right sleeve. He only had a glance at it before he had to hide it away; the wizard knew that the dwarf prince had been watching and had let him see him hid away the paper box so he did not see the paper. The only thing he had discerned that written in Sindarin was the following name and title; Dairon, Ranger of the North, son of Daerdan.


	5. The Last Homely House

Chapter Five

Beth could honestly say that at the moment she was the most bruised, sore, cut, and scrapped up that she ever been in her life. Even when she had participated in her failed attempt to become a police officer, like her father had been, she had done just fine until the chase scenario test. She had caught up with the "perpetrator" just fine do to her quickness but had been flung halfway across the room when he had resisted. The officer who had been acting as the criminal had apologized profusely but Beth knew she was not cut out to catching criminals, she was to light and small and she was not about to sit behind a deck for the rest of her life. So she made a career change instead, still helping people in high stress situations but as an ambulance medic instead of a gun touting cop.

She had thought those training days had been bad, her muscles stiff of boards afterwards but that was nothing compared to this. Even though she was being carried piggy back style now by Bofur, she felt like she was turning arthritic or something. But even though she felt like an old woman who could not walk on her own she had learned three words so far; water, yes, and no. Hardly enough to have any type of lengthy conversation but it was a start to being able to communicate in some manner which is better than how they had been beforehand.

Other than Bofur, Bilbo, Gandalf, and one who had carried her like a sack of potatoes was called Thorin but that was everyone's names she knew for sure. All she knew for certain was that when Bofur, who apparently like to talk even if his listener could not understand him, he had gotten yelled at for, she assumed, being too loud by Thorin.

So Bofur had resorted to just whispering whatever stories he was weaving, for she was quite sure he was telling stories for how animated he got at some parts and concentrated at others. Some of the faces he made where so ridiculous that she could not help but giggle at them. When Thorin turned around to shush them both yet again only for both of them to snicker at how his eyebrow had twitched with how annoyed he had obviously become. But the pair behaved themselves afterwards, for the most part. Though they could only get into so much trouble since they could not talk, but Beth somehow knew that they might just be good friends once she could actually understand him and everyone else in the group for that matter.

They had been going down the long, meandering, rock pathway for what she could only guess had been about an hour or so when they could see the pathway open up to a wide overlook that stood above a huge green valley. Beth heard the word Rivendell thrown back and forth between those closest to her and Bofur, but that was soon forgotten when she saw what was in the valley.

Nestled in-between the white cliffs that made this huge valley, trees grew upon every surface they could grab enough purchase on and waterfalls cascaded down in so many spots that one could not be sure to count them all. However it was what rose out of those trees and waterfalls that gave her pause. Beth had been here before she was certain, but that was when her parents had taken her to see the Waterfall Valley Historical Site for her tenth birthday. She had wanted to badly to go see the museum and the working archeological site that she had hardly noticed that most of the artifacts where all worn down by the elements almost beyond recognition or quite broken.

Beth could remember her mother reading one of the placards about how they did not know who had lived there but that they had up and abandoned the city thousands of years ago. However it had been the fragments of mosaics that had been found that had taken her breath away. The pieces of glass where so tiny that it would have taken decades to make the tiny birds, flowers and animals of the forest, and those had been for the floors. It had made her imagination go wild with the splendor the city must have had when it was not in ruins.

But now she was looking at the elegant bridges, soaring walkways covered by elegant scrollwork canopies, and buildings that rose out of the forest seemed to be woven into the landscape instead of defy it. It was more than any day dream of hers could have ever imagined or dreamed. It was amazing and beautiful and should not be here. There should not be any standing buildings here; even the museum had been built outside of the valley to not destroy any potential artifacts. There should have been only some sheds and canopies over the still working dig sights, not a whole city.

There was only one way that this ancient city could still be standing, the idea was ridiculous, impossible, and even insane but there was no other option left that made more sense. She had somehow traveled back in time.

Beth said the only thing that came to her mind at this realization. "Well, shit."

 

*

 

To say that when Thorin was surprised to hear a common tongue expletive come out of the human woman behind him, apparently he was not the only one surprised when everyone else turned their heads in surprise as well.

"What in Durin's name are you teaching her Bofur?" Thorin harshly questioned the dwarf carrying the human woman, ignoring the girl's sheepish expression, though he would later admit to himself that seeing her blush looked a lot better on her than a pale bloodless face.

Bofur claimed innocence, "I didn't teach her that. All I did was try to keep her spirit's up with some stories." He seemed just as surprised as the rest of them.

It was Gandalf who spoke up next, "Well know we know for sure her language is at least based on Westron in some way that should be of some help with her learning ours. Perhaps the elves would have a better knowledge of this then me..." The Grey Wizard trailed off when Thorin shot a glare at the old man, did Gandalf really think that type of argument would made him more congenial at how this situation was shaping up? It would take a lot more than that to pull the wool over his eyes, at the moment the dwarven prince could not think of any other solution to their various problems so he was not going to put his foot down on the matter. Neither was he going to pretend that he was at all happy with the situation.

Perhaps it was his pride that kept him from wanting to accept any type of help, especially from elves, but Thorin was not about to change his ways. He just hoped he would not have to darken the halls of Rivendell for longer than was needed.

 

*

 

The wizard rubbed his chin reflectively; he had thought that some of the words the girl had said and how some of them had sounded almost like some of their own, yet not quite the same. Apparently some words where still the same. He chuckled to himself as he remembered the confused and sour face Thorin had made when the human had cursed, probably a little louder than she had intended, but non e the less it had been amusing.

The heir of Erebor was a proud, stern, stubborn and often times cantankerous dwarf, yet he was loyal to a fault, valiant, intelligent and a born leader. It was a rarity that anything threw off Thorin Oakenshield, and it was rather hilarious to see how easily put out he was over a human girl. Gandalf knew she was human, that much at least he knew for certain. She was of study stock with how well she was holding up so far. She was lost, hurt, and unable to truly communicate with anyone and had kept rather good spirits with some help from Bofur. At least until they had come out onto the overlook above Rivendell.

Upon seeing the elvish city she had blanched and then caused the whole uproar over her…strong…language. She surely had some warrior blood in her, quite possibly Dúnedain blood if that pin was a family heirloom. Though to be honest she was a little short to be a pure descendant of the Men of Westernesse. Either way he was rather interested in what type of person she was when he would finally be able to talk with her. And how she recognized Rivendell, honestly it was all quite a puzzle that he dearly wanted to resolve, perhaps Elrond would know about the Ranger called Dairon.

…

As the group got closer and closer to the city Beth could tell something was off with the one called Thorin. He seemed more irritable than usual, not that she really knew how testy of a person he normally was. It just felt like he was on edge. Not nervous just more ill-tempered then he had been when they had started walking this way. As they crossed a bridge to get to what looked like a receiving plaza, it was flanked by two huge stone warriors so elegant in their carved cloaks of stone looked as if it was real fabric rippling in the wind.

They were greeted by an elegantly dressed being. She could only call his a being because human or man just did not fit. He moved in such a fluid way that it did not look as if he was walking, not it was more like floating. He was also much too beautiful to be a normal human, if he was human.


	6. Sleepless Night

Chapter 6

Gandalf watched as the girl was attended to by and elvish healer, she had some bruised ribs on her left side and a mass of bruising and raised welts that ran up and down that side. Normally such injuries took several weeks to heal but the elves where gifted in healing, she would be sore a few days but would be all better within the week. The girl would however have a scar from the wound on her cheek as a permanent reminder of her rather…hectic meeting with their company.

As one of the female elves took her away to get a bath and clean clothes, Gandalf went off to meet with Elrond. The Lord of Rivendell was in his study going over some letters he had received. Elrond looked up at him with assessing grey eyes and instantly knew that the wizard was troubled over something.

"What brings you and such an odd company to Imladris my friend?" The perceptive elf asked.

"Well I have more than one reason I am afraid," Gandalf replied plucking at the end of his beard figuring out what order to go about things. "We might as well start off with the hardest question, for I think we might not have an answer even if we both set our combined efforts to solving it."

"What a riddle that is." Said a silvery voice, filled with some laughter, from behind them. Both Elrond and Gandalf turned to find the Lady of Lorien to have entered unannounced and unheard, her robes flowing around her like water. Gandalf bowed out of respect of the wise elf.

"My Lady, it is just that the person who might have the answers cannot communicate in Westron my lady, and none of the other languages I have heard spoken in Middle Earth before." Gandalf explained.

"You talk of the human woman you brought with your company who was injured?" Questioned Elrond, his interested obviously piqued at the fascinating situation.

"Yes, we…there was some confusion when our company met up with her unfortunately with some undesired results. But I have no inkling to where she came from and who she is. The girl was wandering around alone in troll infested woods with hardly any food or any supplies needed for an extended journey. From what I can gather she speaks some form of Westron, but a dialect so evolved from it. A few words are exactly the same and others only reminiscent of the common tongue but the majority is different enough." The grey wizard stated.

"So, she is from a small and isolated village." Elrond concluded.

"That is what I thought as well until I found these," at this the wizard set down the silver ranger pin and the letter from her box. This letter is signed by a Ranger of the name Dairon, son of Daerdan, and the same name is on the back of the pin."

Elrond picked up the letter while Galadriel examined the pin, both elves studious in their analyzing of the objects. It was Elrond who spoke up first, "I know of the Ranger Dairon son of Daerdan. He disappeared many years ago if I remember correctly, he and his younger brother stayed in my house when they were young. But how are we to know if she did not steal the pin and letter, she could be an orphan looking for a family with money for all we can discern at the moment."

At this Galadriel, who had been silently listening up until this point, spoke up with a placid smile, "I may just have a solution to that problem."

 

*

 

Beth held a heavy mirror trying to see the entirety of her head. The mirror itself was rather small but it was made of highly polished silver and had delicate engravings of a hunting party that started on the handle and wrapped around the edge and onto the back. Nevertheless admiring the mirror was not Beth's main priority; instead she was trying to ascertain the state of her hair.

The other worldly being had healed, bathed, and fed her. They had also trimmed off her once long locks to match the shorn chunk. She was not horribly vain but her hair was one thing she was rather proud about. It was the same amber color that her father and grandfather had and it had taken several years to get it to grow past her shoulders.

It was not that it looked bad, not that at all. Beth just felt like she looked like a boy now since her hair now only came to halfway down her cheeks. She set down the mirror with a sigh. What done was done and there was nothing that she could have had been able to do about it. It would have looked even stranger to have it all be long except one section, she decided.

She flopped down on the bed in the room with a slight hiss of pain from moving too quickly. For as good as she felt now compared to earlier today, Beth still had a twinge of pain if she twisted the wrong way or, like just now, flopped over too quickly. Technically she should know better than to flop around with bruised ribs but whatever those healers had done had made most of the swelling go down, kept the bruising to a minimum and made her ribs ache less. It was almost as if they had magically healing abilities, but whatever it was Beth was grateful for it either way.

Since she had eaten in this room she had yet to see the group she had come to the city with, not a few minutes after arriving Beth had been taken from Bofur and to what she assumed was the medical building. After that it had been a blur that led to her being in a nightgown and robe both too long for her frame by about a foot or so. Beth was fiddling with the edges of her hair zoning out in the general direction of the arched ceiling. To say that today was information over load was an understatement. So much had gone on she did not know what to make of it or what to think of first. Just as she thought she was about to doze off there was a knock at her door.

Beth sat up like a shot and winced as a result. "Damn ribs," she muttered as she padded over to the door. The latch was slightly higher than she was use to, only by about 6 inches or so but it was enough to be noted. In fact everything in this city seemed to be made for taller people. Probably because everyone she had seen, while beautiful, was at shortest 6 foot. It made her feel shorter than her five foot two inches, but it did call to question why everyone she had met up with in the woods, with the exception of the grey man, where all closer to her height.

 One of the bright and beautiful people… or rather creatures really for they were hardly human, stood at the door with what looked like a meal. It looked as if she was to spend the rest of the evening in her room, with having dinner brought to her.

She, or now that Beth looked again, perhaps it was a he? This out of place woman was hardly sure since it seemed both genders to be about the same when it came to their unearthly beauty. But anyways, he refused to let her take the tray herself, instead softly chiding her in that musically fluid tongue, as he sent the tray down on a table with a chair by it. 

He probably was talking about her ribs and such but all she could do was smile sheepishly and nod, completely oblivious to what he was actually saying. It was times like these she wondered what she was agreeing too, but he just seemed to want her to sit down at the table and looked satisfied enough when she did thus as he indicated. 

With a small kind of enigmatic smile he left, closing the door with hardly a sound as Beth was now left to oversee the mountain of hardy foods of large nutritional value but filling as well. Honestly she had no idea who thought she was going to eat so much before bed. But she was going to give it a valiant try. 

 

*

 

Beth did not know she had fallen asleep until she woke with a slight jerk. It was dark as pitch now in the room since she had closed the heavy curtains out of habit. She had not needed to in all honesty; it was not like they had electric lights outside that would keep her up like at her tiny apartment.

Tossing and turning for what felt like half an hour, Beth sat up and ran a hand through her hair only to grimace at how one side was stuck to her face while the other stuck straight up. Ruffling her hair to get it not looking quite so messy, Beth made her way to the door that led to the hallway. Maybe a little walk down the hall would settle her mind so she could get back to sleep.

However she soon found herself very lost and somehow in a garden heavy from the musk of night blooming flowers and trees that hung high over the paths. But even thought she was lost she did not feel uneasy yet, for the moment she could be content gazing at the stars. They were so much brighter that she had ever seen them, even in the country there had constantly been light pollution that dulled their intensity. It was an awe inspiring sight to say the least.

 

*

 

Thorin sat in a rather un-kingly like manner in one of the window sills as he deftly put a still glowing coal into his pipe. Being in this elvish city put his nerves on such an edge he found himself needing to smoke some pipe-weed. The rest of his company where all snoring contentedly while here he was as wide awake as an owl. The dull orange emanated from his pipe it lit up his travel weary face Thorin let the pipe-weed dull the edge on his stressed mind. He knew that there were questions that probably would not be answered by any race other than the elves, but he was not going to act all pleased about this entire situation.

The dwarven prince did not know how long he sat there thinking of his men, Erebor, his lost family, his wandering people, his family's lost honor and wealth, and the bane of his existence the dragon Smaug. All in all it was a rather depressing and dismal line of thought that he would have kept on had it not been for the movement in the gardens alone.

He quickly tapped out his pipe, so to not be seen, out of habit before even seeing what or who was stirring around down there. His sharp eyes easily spotted the human girl wandering around in the gardens in what looked like just a nightgown and dressing robe, both much too long for her since they probably made for the height of an elf. But the oddest thing was how she did not gaze at the moonflowers or the laurinquë trees with their branches heavy with clusters of tiny yellow flowers. Instead she was staring up at the sky as if she had never seen stars before. He slightly worried that she might walk right into a tree or something but she disappeared from his sight with only tripping over her overlong hem once.

He turned away from the window and went to his cot. Whatever she was doing walking around outside in the middle of the night in her nightdress was none of his business anymore. It was not like she would be continuing on with his company, so he felt as if he did not need to think of her anymore. But that mental reasoning did not keep away her smiling face at the vast sea of stars from his thoughts. The sight seemed to have burned itself into his mind's eye much to his vexation.


	7. What the Letter Said

Chapter 7

Beth stopped short when she saw a tall woman clad in a silver gown that looked more like water than fabric. She had not met up with anyone until now and suddenly felt as if she was intruding. The woman's hair was long and the color of liquid silver and gold and her bearing regal and intimidating. Beth started to back away as silently as she could but the woman turned around with a gentle smile on her face.

" _Do not worry my child. I have been waiting to talk to you."_  Beth heard a voice inside her mind that was defiantly not her own, she paled and froze in surprise not knowing what in the world to do. After all what does someone do when you start hearing voices in your head that is not you? Perhaps she had finally lost it?

A silvery tinkle of a laugh from the voice came into her head, " _You are not insane, little one. This is the only way I am able to converse with you at the moment seeing as you do not speak the common tongue as we know it."_ The woman said, though that term barely fit this conversation.

" _How are you doing this?"_ Beth asked completely bewildered at what was going on but caught on that she would just have to think to be understood.

" _I am Lady Galadriel of the Eldar race, what your kind would call elves or the firstborn. With age in our kind comes power, mine allows us to communicate in this way. But you do not know of my kind do you?"_ The voice inquired rather than accused. " _However it is you I must inquire about you, child, for that is why we are both here. How did you come to be in the company of twelve dwarves, a hobbit and a wizard?"_

At so many new words that did not translate Beth paused, " _What do you mean by dwarves? I thought that they were human like me, all on the short side maybe but human none the less."_ Beth paused slightly, " _And what is a hobbit? There are stories of dwarves from my time but I've never heard of a hobbit."_

" _Hobbits are a quiet home loving race; they are small in stature and habitually get mistaken for children as you originally did when you met Mr. Baggins. The dwarves on the other hand are a stalwart race strong both in mentality and body and much more single minded than the carefree hobbits. I see that you know the general idea of what a wizard."_

Beth answered honestly, " _I am not sure. One moment I was in the woods at my grandfather's house and then next I was being first charged at and then dragged around by the group of men who brought me here."_

Then the voice took on a serious tone. " _I have much to ask you tonight, first of all if you can read this part of the letter in your possession?"_

At this Galadriel brought out the letter Gandalf had taken out of her box, Beth had known her stuff had been gone through so it did not come as a surprise that they had found and looked over it.

" _All I know is that my grandfather hid it there and the only part I could read is his name, Daniel Hale, right here."_  Beth pointed at the two words she did know. " _I cannot read anything else."_

" _If you so wish I will read it to you, it is written in the common tongue."_  The Lady of Light said and then read the following;

To my dear granddaughter, if you can read this or have someone that can read it to you know that this is an explanation of my past and what may have happened to you. I never told you about my past life in another time for I did not want to place such a burden on you and was reluctant to make you question my sanity. For there are times I question myself about my sanity as well.

I was born into the Dúnedain, a wandering people who watch over the peoples of Middle Earth from forces of darkness. In this time such things that I battled are long since passed, magic has left the land and in the time you were born into only men rule and struggle for power.

You always seemed to wonder why you had so small a family and I can tell you now it does get a little larger. My mother by the name of Asta was from Arnor, has long since passed being not from the longer lived families of the Dúnedain. My father, your great-grandfather possibly still lives yet though would be very old. I was the middle child of four; two brothers, Hallas and Baranor, and one sister, Morwen. Anyone of them may still be alive and will welcome you into their families as my blood is their blood. The Dunedain are a long lived people, living up to three times longer than the other free men of Arda, for my father was 160 years when I disappeared.

When I was an old hand as a Ranger, devoted to my duty and did not even take a wife. One day I was in the area not far from Rivendell when I was confronted with what I thought to be just an old woman but quickly found out that she was not what she seemed when she tried to accost me. I fought her off and was riding away when she yelled out a curse on me, cursing me. To a place where I would see my people yet not be with them, to be a part of this world yet not theirs and that my blood would return upon my death. I can only hope that "my blood" is restricted to my literal blood and not my decadences.

I found myself in a strange land, while the same was changed beyond my belief. Eru provided me a friend in your grandmother's father who took me under his wing. Teaching me a new language and helping me create a new life. Not many years later I married your grandmother and we had your father two years later, I was then 126 years old. If you are to find yourself in a strange land, know you will always find friends at Rivendell and its Lord Elrond for they have good relations with the rangers of the north and I and my siblings sent time there as children.

I hope you do not question how much I loved you or your father because I did not tell you about such a huge part of my life. Know that you are of my line, a line of warriors, and you are warrior as well. Use your talents in healing and always cherish life as you always have. Yet know there will come a time when you shall need to put down your bandages and pick up the sword to battle darkness. You have come to a time with much magic and light as well as darkness and confusion. Seek out my kin, and live your life as well as you can. I know I am gone by the time you have read this but know I have always cherished you as my grandchild and you gave me great joy in my old age.

May you find peace and home my granddaughter,

Your grandfather, Daniel Hale also known as Dairon, son of Daerdan.

*

To say Beth was shell shocked at the contents of this letter was to put it lightly, she did not know how she got there but found herself being made to sit down on a bench. Her eyes were full of unshed tears. He must have been so alone, just like she felt now. But also the letter made no mention of a way to get back, as if such an idea was impossible.

" _The Lord Elrond knows of your grandfather and his family, he will help you in finding them."_  The Lady Galadriel's voice in her head said reassuringly.

" _I would like that very much."_  Beth responded.

They both sat in silence for several long minutes before the silvery voice started talking. "You have been overexposed to many things tonight. You should now that while we have been conversing I have planted the equivalents of your language with the Common Tongue terms. There are still numerous words that have no counterpart in yours that you will still have to gain knowledge of and use but this start ought to help significantly. But you will have a headache in the morning if you do not rest since it is a lot for work going on in your head." The elvish lady paused, "Also know that at first if you do not concentrate you will switch between the two if you become over agitated or the like but that will wear off with practice."

"Thank you my lady, I do not know what I can say." Beth responded in awe of the idea of such magic, but Galadriel only smiled in turn before gesturing to the way back to Beth's room.

Beth did not realize until she was almost asleep in her bed that the last part of their conversation had been spoken out loud in a language she should not have known.

 

*

 

The Lady of Lothlórien however did not rest as the human girl did. For when she had been in Beth Hale's mind she had seen the future. She had known that the time of the elves was passing and that Arda would be in the hands of men but it had still come as a shock to her at seeing Imladris as ruins to be examined and studied as the remnants of a people long dead.


	8. Dreams and Nightmares

Chapter 8

A simple headache was hardly what Beth was experiencing. When she had woken up light blinded her and made her pound even more. The light breakfast had helped for a little while and then had turned sour and made her wish to be sick to get it over with. Words she did not know flew through her mind, some matching up and many more not at all registering.

Maybe she should have protested at such a…gift. So far it had been more a curse than a gift. Honestly Beth could not help but wonder if it would have been better to have to struggle with learning it on her own then this ghastly shortcut. This was even worse than the time she had gotten the flu last year.

When she had gotten dressed Beth had also noticed that the bruising on her side had come back with a vengeance as well as the ache in her ribs. When an elf came in with her lunch, Beth knew something was wrong when they immediately made her sit down and felt their freezing cold hand on her forehead. Or maybe it was her forehead was burning up like a furnace in comparison with their cool hand. After that her condition worsened quickly to chills a high fever and then she blacked out.

 

*

 

Gandalf and the elvish healers to be honest were all quite perplexed over this entire situation. It was like the human woman was fighting off an infection yet it was progressing much too quickly for that. She was asleep now but had been incoherent when she had been awake.

Lord Elrond and the Lady Galadriel had both come to the girl's room to assess the situation, and they both came to the same conclusion. For some reason or another, the human's body was reacting to magic as it would as if it was poison. The only reason they could come up with such an occurrence was her lack of exposure to magic and the kind. In this era it had started to wane from the human race in particular and quite possibly had been lost completely in her time. It was quite possible that the combination of being healed and trying to gap the language barrier had together caused a type of allergic reaction. It was almost as if her body was creating immunity to magic.

The only thing they could do was to give her some white willow bark for the pain, yarrow for the fever and let her sleep. Rest in the end was the best medicine after all.

Gandalf found himself eating dinner with his group of dwarves and one hobbit, their merrymaking bringing a smile to his weary face. The brothers, Fíli and Kíli, were in particularly rare form. From switching Bombur's beer with water, much to the round dwarf's bewilderment, and wadding greens, fruits and vegetables into Oin's ear trumpet turning it into a literal garden.

The best of it all had been when Fíli put salt into his brother's drink without knowing that Kíli had just done the exact same thing. Their faces upon drinking the salty beers had been done right hilarious for everyone else at the table who had been the victims of the brother's antics. Their raucous laughter filled the candle lit hall and even the taciturn Thorin could not help the light smirk that came to his lips.

After much drinking and some carousing the group had settled down to smoking pipe-weed blowing smoke rings out the widows seeing who's went farthest before dissolving into the night air. It was then that Bofur and Bilbo came over to him and made inquires about the girl Beth.

"We don't mean to be stickin' our noses where they shouldn't be…but me and Mr. Baggins were wonderin' how our young friend is doin'." Bofur said as he pulled at his beard.

"We were just thinking that we might see her again, if she is feeling alright that it," Bilbo added.

Gandalf sighed but saw no reason to keep them in the dark with part this of her situation at least, "Well at the moment our young friend is having a rather…hard night." The wizard continued on having seen Thorin furtively listening in from his chair that he had balanced on its two back legs, "Apparently she is in some way allergic to elvish healing and I wouldn't be surprised if that now applies to all magic with how violently she reacted."

"Is that how the elves would treat their guests, by making them worse off?" Grumbled Thorin from his perch, it was as if he had been waiting for something to criticize about their hosts.

"They did nothing untoward, Thorin." Gandalf bite back, the dwarf's stubborn hate for the entirety of the first kin was scrapping the last of his nerves on the matter. "They would have no idea how she would have reacted, in fact none of us have ever encountered such an occurrence. Do not assume that anything that they did was meant to do anything but help."

Apparently his sharp response was enough to silence the grumpy prince, much to his surprise.

Bilbo broke the awkward silence with his ever present concern for others. "Is there anything we could do? Maybe a cuppa tea would do her some good?" The Hobbit was always willing to help where he could. The Halfling was having a rather hard time finding a spot in their group of warriors and wanderers, the poor things was out of his depth and trying his best to say a float and learn quickly.

"That is a wonderfully thoughtful gesture Bilbo, but for now sleep is the best cure for our young friend."

 

*

 

In Beth's fever filled dreams she dreamt of many things. From her parents and grandparents spending a lovely summer day together with her, to the horrible nightmares she kept having about trying to get a dying person to the hospital yet every turn she made seemed to take the ambulance even further away. It had been horrible with the smell of blood filling up the vehicle it was sickly sweet and coppery.

Suddenly it all started to dissolve away leaving a shadowy figure was looming above her. But it was not a scary figure; a large hand pushed her back gently to make her lie down. A warm hum emanated from the figure, it was deep and comforting. Sort of like a momma cat with her kitten, Beth thought in weary amusement letting her heart stop racing like a herd of wild horses.

She was not sure when but at some point as she sank finally sank into a deep sleep with no dreams or nightmares that the figure was singing. It was deep and quiet, pulsating through her being like an extra heartbeat, the strange words were guttural but not harsh, alien as it was it was calming and Beth soon no longer was aware of anything at all but the embrace of sleep. She would remember nothing more than bits and pieces of fevered dreams the next morning.

 

*

 

The morning came quicker than she would have wanted. The light from the window cast a golden haze over the whole room as summer birds made quite a racket getting all their business done before the heat of the day hit. Stretching she sat up and took account of her wounds.

Beth could tell her ribs were just bruised and not cracked or broken. Her side was a horrible sight of mottled green, yellow, and purples but that was a good sign that it was healing. The white blood cells were doing their job as the broken blood vessels knit themselves back together. Her fever was also gone and with it the racing words and thoughts.

When a woman had brought her some broth, bread, and icy cold water for her to eat Beth thanked her. But from the confused yet slightly patronizing look on the woman's lovely pale face Beth could only assume that whatever the elf lady had tried to do to help with her communication problems had not worked out so well. Though she could not be sure if that had been the cause of her sudden, yet short illness, however she could not be sure since there was no way for her to know whether it had been that or just some twenty-four hour flu.

For several hours she stayed in the room. Every hour passed slower than the last and the June heat made the air feel like syrup, thick with the scent of jasmine and sun warmed grass. The urge to leave the now claustrophobic room was too much and the broth really had not lasted that long at how her stomach aching dully with hunger. It did not help that she could smell something cooking and its aroma was heavenly after having just broth and bread.

She stuck her head out looking this way and that with slit eyes. Seeing no one around Beth snuck out the room as silently as she could, which really was not that noiseless since she kept tripping over her dress every few steps. After food she has going to go find her own clothes. Pants would be very welcome after these preposterously long dresses. But first things fist and Beth followed the scent of cooking meat, emanating down the halls, in the epic search for food.


	9. Blue Eyes

Chapter 9

Down several hallways and over a small bridge that led to another building separated from the one she had been in by a meandering waterfall. This building seemed to be more open to the air with huge arched windows and doorways, which only better allowed the scent of succulent cooking meats to surround her. Many raucous and in high spirited voices emanated from the third door on the right, which of course was where the delightful aroma was coming from. But what did she expect? An empty yet fully stocked kitchen filled with all her favorite food was not going to happen.

Beth pulled up her dress to well above her ankles, and slunk towards the door, afraid to be caught yet unwilling to go away without food. She peeked around the open door and saw a hive of activity. The group of, dwarves was the word the woman had used, were sitting round the large fire place that had several different kinds of birds roasting, sausages and a huge hind of some king. Below that were several skillets with frying fish and, the best meat of them all, bacon.

To say the sight was mouth watering would be an understatement. That was also the moment Beth really knew she was on the mend. The first sign that Beth could tell was she was ill was when Beth could not stand the smell or sign of bacon or greasy food in general.

Right now all she could think about was stuffing her mouth in an incredibly unladylike manner. Her stomach rumbled dreadfully loudly, apparently loud enough for everyone in the room to hear and turn around much to her embarrassment.

 

*

 

Bilbo had been sitting down with the all dwarfs. Well almost all of them; Thorin had gone off to talk with Elrond and Gandalf about the map of Erebor and probably would not be back soon with how the Dwarf King had gone off looking as if he was going to go get teeth pulled. When they all looked over at the noise at the doorway he had immediately assumed that it was Thorin, he was quite wrong.

It was the girl, Beth, they had come upon in the woods; her hair was cut short now and was also not covered in mud. When her stomach rumbled again she reminded him of a trembling deer about dart at the slightest noise. Before he knew it, Bilbo was standing in front Beth. She was surprised as well, apparently his hobbit quietness had kicked in without him realizing. He silently held out a hand a smile on his face and she took it. Leading her over to an extra chair someone had quickly dragged over to their haphazard circle around the fire place he spoke to Gl _ó_ in, who had over taken the cooking for this evening.

"I do believe she is as hungry as we all are." Bilbo said with some laughter in his tone.

The dwarves all agreed heartily and called for the food to be finished up faster much to Glóin's vexation, "It will not cook faster no matter how much you all complain, get the girl and yourselves a drink to pass the time."

Bilbo while bemused at how confused Beth's face was as the whole group jumped up to crowd around the beer keg, especially when one of them deposited an overflowing tankard. Foam spilled onto her hands and Beth hurriedly tried to sip the foam so that it wouldn't get all over her clothes but ended up taking a larger swig than anticipated and started coughing. He patted her back to make sure she did not choke. She smiled with gratitude and not a small amount of sheepishness, the poor girl looked about as comfortable with this rowdy group as the Halfling felt.

 

*

 

With grease on her hands and face and food in her belly Beth could say that this evening had taken a very fun if not eventful turn. Little Bilbo, the Hobbit was it? As well as Bofur had been teaching and then quizzing her with new words. So far she was pretty sure that she had their words for bacon, ham, sausage, fish, beef, cheese, bread and beer. All very helpful of course right now, yet at the same time she really did not think that everything she needed to know language wise revolved around food and drink.

The dwarf with the long white beard, which curled slightly into two parts, had been singing some type of epic tale for the past half hour or so. Beth was rather sure it was some type of epic poem like the ones she had learned about in university since there was no recognizable chorus or the like, but it did have a lyrical quality to it.

She had never liked those long and odious tales, filled with such ridiculous tales of knights, ladies, magic and dragons. But now dragons and magic did not seem to be as impossible as she had always thought, perhaps there had been more than just a grain of salt in those old tales, Beth thoughts. Perhaps they had been more than just old tales of chivalry and honor.

With how emphatic the old dwarf was telling his tale, Beth could not help but think that it was a story he had lived himself. She did not know what the words meant, but could understand the deep feelings behind them. Some of the words Beth kept picking up on, as she roasted another link of sausage over the fire, were Erebor and Durin. Apparently both were important to the story but she did not know if they were places, people, things or something else.

She now sat on the stone pavers in front of the roaring fire, the night had brought a chill over the air even and even thought it was June she more than comfortable sitting with her feet and face warming by the fire as the hubbub of the dwarves around her surrounded her like a huge family gathering. It was nice.

After the storyteller was finished Bofur started to quiz her over everyone's name. This was going to take awhile.

 

*

 

It was the end of the third day here in this nest of elves and Thorin was hardly happy. He had been conversing with Lord Elrond and Gandalf about his father's and grandfather's map, only to discover that there were moon runes hidden in the map. Moon runes that so far only glimmered in the moonlight this night and could not be read or understood just yet. The elf had said that the runes could only be read on the night of the same moon that they were written and believed that night to be midsummer's eve.

Midsummer's eve was eight long days away. The dwarf prince was not sure how much longer he could feign good manners and keep his resentment from coming out full force. Honestly he knew that as the leader of his people that he should be more civil, but Thorin did not want to be civil he wanted to leave and get on with their quest. Sitting here surrounded by so many elves and not doing anything grated on his nerves and made him itch to do something.

He felt as if he was growing fat with inactivity. For all the years wandering, scrounging and fighting to gain a foothold outside of Erebor had left him incapable of just resting, the idea itself put him on edge.

Thorin was thinking that it would be a good plan to have all of the company train to keep them ready to leave the instant they got the information still hidden in the map. The Halfing also needed much help; he looked more like a child waving around a poisonous snake rather than a man with a well crafted weapon. It would have been comical if he had not found it so pathetic, he truly questioned whether Gandalf had been in his right mind when choosing Master Baggins but kept his mouth shut.

Thorin soon found himself just outside the doorway to the large room that his men were eating in when he realized their laughter was more…well-mannered than what he was accustomed to. He stood in the middle of the doorway and was thrown off for a moment.

In the semicircle of chairs around the fire sat all of his company, including Gandalf who somehow got there before he had, sat the human girl her eyes sparkling with mirth as the rest of them sat laughing around her.

It took a few moments for him to realize what was so funny but figured out that they had been trying to teach the girl all of their names and she had been recited them off and messing it up on purpose. She would mix up the twins, and then horribly mispronounce Balin and Dwalin's names, and on she went. He could tell she was teasing at the way her eyes sparkled with mischief; Thorin had seen that look all too often on his nephew's faces over the years.

Suddenly a change came over her face, instantly the human became more closed and questioning, he realized she had spotted him now leaning on the door frame. Thorin grimaced, apparently she remembered his face and he was sure that it was not associated with good memories. Honestly he did not begrudge her of fearing him; they could not yet explain to her what had happened in the woods the other day. It would have to be confusing to be first attacked, then carried around like a sack of potatoes, and deposited into the hands of even more strangers.

It was then that Kili saw him as well and broke his line of sight of the human girl by jumping up.

"Did you find out what is on the map uncle?" His dark haired sister-son asked animatedly and the rest of his dwarves looked at him in anticipation as well.

"Whatever is written on the map is in moon letters and can only be read in the light of the midsummer's eve moon. We have to stay here until then." Thorin replied, becoming miffed again at remembering that fact. Everyone also seemed to be all too happy to have such a long break, much to his vexation. They did not have to all look so happy about it.

"Bofur you or Master Baggins should take the girl back to her room, it is late enough as it is and we all will be going to the training yard tomorrow." He stated, smirking inwardly at everyone's groans and grumbles but none of them spoke out against it.

Thorin moved out of the way as Bilbo escorted the human girl out of the room, the Halfing could be rather perceptive about situations and kept himself between the two of them. The dwarf prince could not help but notice that the girl kept her eyes on him, as if waiting for him to pounce on her again. Those dark brown eyes seemed to take over her face and then as quickly as he had noticed them she was gone.

He shook it off and turned to his men, with his hands on his hips, "Rest well tonight, for in the morn we shall have a less cushy day then the past few.

 

*

 

Back in her room Beth could still not shake those blue eyes from her mind's eye. When she had seen the dark clad figure in the doorway she had been taken aback and knew she had immediately closed up. To stay that she was confused about the situation was an understatement but she did not even for a second refuse Bilbo's offered hand. It appears that she had not been welcome in that room anymore and she did not know if it was because of her or something entirely different.

As they had left she had been grateful that Bilbo had placed himself between her and the bear, even if he was more than a head shorter than both of them which made his actions quite funny after the fact. Beth could not help but notice that when the bear man, she paused and corrected herself, dwarf was actually rather good looking when he did not have blind rage written all over his face.

He did look like the stern type but had not looked at her in an annoyed or angry way, so she could only assume that he did not want to kill her which was a relief. Now if she could just get those damn blue eyes and that long dark hair out of her mind she would be set.

"Stupid brain and my weakness for guys with dark hair and blue eyes," Beth grumbled to herself. But she brushed it off, it was not like she was going to see him that much anyways if the past few days were any indication.


	10. A Delicate Balance

Chapter 10

The next day Beth found herself sitting with Bilbo on a low stone wall just outside of the sparing area that was not far from the main complex of buildings. She swung her feet, feeling quite chipper. She had her boots, shirt and best of all pants. They had all been left that morning cleaned and the tear in her leather jacket had been but it was much too warm to wear that today. As happy to be in her normal clothes Beth could not help but notice the face Bilbo had made when he had come by her room the morning. She had not really thought about it being strange for a woman to wear pants but it appears that in this time and age it was fairly strange, probably unladylike as well but she did not care what they thought. She was comfortable and not constantly tripping over a dress and Beth did not feel like apologizing for that.

While the dwarves bashed at each other with swords and axes, Bilbo was teaching her more words. He had started out with some children songs and rhymes, which were easy to memorize. Such as counting to ten, the different features on her face and different natural things like rocks, grass, flowers, dirt, water, and the sun.

She had never been good with foreign languages, even before university. But having become immersed into Weston, as Bilbo called it, sort of forced her to have to learn it and to be quick about it too. So Beth was being as studious as she could be, maybe more so then she had been in school.

Soon however Bilbo was called over to the sparing area and he grimaced obviously not wanting to go down there but he did anyways. He seemed like such a gentle soul Beth was not sure why he was with such a group of rough and tumble dwarfs. She watched as the hobbit fumbled with the short sword that had had strapped to his side. Bilbo looked about as comfortable as if you put him in a pot of scalding water, which was not at all.

It was the dark one, Thorin as Bilbo called him, who seemed to be putting the hobbit through his paces. The dwarf corrected Bilbo's stance, his hold on the handle, his posture. It looked as if Bilbo was doing everything wrong in Thorin's eyes, not that Beth knew the beginnings of swordsmanship but still he seemed like a hard teacher to please.

For over half an hour Thorin barked at the poor hobbit. He made Bilbo repeat the same move until he was satisfied and moved on to the next one. They stopped only when Bilbo was wheezing and bruised, but to his credit he had not complained. Thorin on the other hand had barely broken a sweat even though he had been training with the others for much longer.

Not that she was noticing how sweaty he was or anything. She absentmindedly fiddled with some small pebbles on the wall she was sitting on. All of them, with the exceptions of Bombur and Bilbo, were obviously well built.

Even now she was not sure where she stood in the eyes of their leader, so that was a little awkward, and she still did not know if he had her kicked out last night or just sent her off to bed like a child.

The only thing she could be sure of was that he was a hot head, gruff, stuck-up, and uptight. All characteristics she could not abide.

 

*

 

Thorin knew his blows where landing harder on Fíli's sword and shield than he usually would be doing in just a friendly practice bout. He was venting his frustration today there was no hiding that. He had given even the hobbit quite a beating of a lesson though he did hold back some for Master Baggins was no warrior. There was no time to slowly train him in the ways of swordsmanship and make this gentle hobbit into someone who can look out for himself, so that he would not be a burden to the company. There was no time to coddle him. Like he had told Gandalf at the beginning of this journey, he could not guarantee the hobbit's or anyone else's, for that matter, safety. Thorin could however try to prepare the hobbit to protect himself and thus better his chances if he stayed on with them.

After having exhausted Bilbo for the afternoon, Thorin had gone back to the other dwarves and was now sparing with his nephew. It was then that he had known for certain it was him the human girl was really looking at.

Every time he glanced over at the girl and Master Baggins, who had gone back to tutoring and catch his breath, she was always looking somewhere else. The trees, the grass, the clouds, or acting studious to whatever Master Baggins was saying. With an overly vicious parry Thorin knocked Fíli's sword from hand and it flew through the air with a hum to land standing upright in the soil from yards away. His hands stung slightly from the reverberations still ringing down Orcrist but the dwarf prince ignored it just like he told himself like he was ignoring the girl.

"Again," he called to Fíli as his nephew wrenched his weapon free from where it had imbedded itself.

"Come now Thorin, is it well past the midday meal," Balin interjected. "We all need a break from this sun and to quench our thirst and I can think of not a better time than this."

Thorin grunted in tentative agreement, it was true that the day had become too hot for much armor and the sun did beat down on them with only the occasional cloud to offer comfort.

"Very well, everyone get their tankard and bellies filled." Thorin conceded, nonetheless reluctantly. "That is all for this morning."

 

*

 

Lunch came and went, as loud and lively as last night had been even though they all looked hot and tired. The cold beer however gave them new energy and they were back at it again, showing off their manliness by beating up each other. Men truly never did change.

Beth and Bilbo had abandoned their studies to watch the men spar in some type of game of speed and balance. Each man had a disk with a long handle coming down from the bottom and on each one was balanced a ball in a slight divot.

They would then circle each other, trying to knock over the other's ball onto the ground first. After a win someone new would then stand up in challenge and try to take their place. There was much shuffling around and batting at each other to unbalance the other, dust rose stirred up by their restless feet.

Some matches where over before they started with some being too violent in their movements or too meek. Others drug out for long periods of time between equally matched opponents, with the winner being decided only by a momentary misstep or to wipe a bead of sweat from their eyes.

Beth itched to try her hand at it, until now she had not even thought about "playing with the boys" as her grandmother would have said. But this was a game of speed and flexibility, she was sure that she could move faster than they did in their heavy chainmail.

So when one of the brothers, Kíli was it, knocked down poor sweater clad Ori's sphere and balance with quite some force. Both objects however fell near her and Bilbo's feet where they stood on the edge of the dirt circle. They called out to her, to be picked up and used.

Beth crouched down and picked them up, knocking the dirt and dust from them before stepping out into the ring. A silence fell over the dwarves who had been joking with Ori. She almost put them back down, perhaps she had crossed some line she had no way of knowing but Beth did not back down. Her father had not been a man to back down and she was her father's daughter, neither would she.

Kíli looked confused and then amused at the idea of sparing with a female and that made her blood boil. He had the same look on his face as so many of the other male cadets when she had tried to become an officer of the law. In the end they had been right, but today she was not about to let those cadets to be right again.

She took a ready stance the ball balanced on its precarious perch held in her left hand as far back as was comfortable. Beth quirked a brow as she gestured for him to come at her with her right hand.

"Well come on," she egged him, knowing her tone and posture would translate words that he did not recognize.

He looked to the others as if for permission but shrugged and got into a protective stance himself. They both circled each other, sizing the other up. Beth had seen him fight with others and how he had acted quickly and suddenly to throw off his opponent, which had worked so well with Ori he had dropped his balanced sphere out of shock. She would have to strike before he did.

Beth could see from his tensing posture that he was about to move and thinking quickly Beth rocketed her ball into the air, spun around her opponent's blocking arm and knocked his ball down. His ball hit the ground just a few moments before hers did, but it had been before none the less.

 

*

 

To say Bilbo had not been just as surprised as the dwarves when Beth had wanted to be let in on their sparring match. That she had managed to knock Kíli's ball down before her own, even if it was through in a manner of slight questionability. But there was no rule against it, so it must be alright. She had been almost immediately dethroned from her win by the next dwarf to spar with her but she had done well. Beth the strange human seemed to be made of stronger stuff then he had assumed.

The Halfling found this fact to be rather encouraging, for if a slight human woman could outwit and outplay one of these dwarves. Perhaps he had some hope of not being just a burden on the company after all.


	11. Only Shadows Remain

Chapter 11

 

Beth found herself studying again with Bilbo the next day; it was cooler than the day before with rain. Enough to have cooled everything off and made the dust settle to the ground without making it too muddy to do any practicing. She could not help herself over fussing over the poor hobbit’s bruises, the way the rest of them all seemed to knock the smaller being around while practicing had her hackles raised.

She realized now that Bilbo was older than she had first assumed on the account of his height yet she still could not get rid of all of her motherly instincts when it came to him. More than once she had found herself wincing in sympathy or getting angry at how essentially Thorin seemed to be going hard on Bilbo. But she could not be sure if it was some type of guy thing, she had several male friends who had beaten each other into a pulp only to become the greatest of friends, so she did not interfere.

Today they had graduated him to practicing archery. The hardest part had been finding a bow that the hobbit could draw back the string on. The entire collection of dwarvish bows where too stout and the tension too strong for the Halfling to use with any amount of deadliness. Soon a smaller and more elegant looking bow was found and from the amount of laughing and cajoling that happened Beth felt reasonably safe in assuming that it was a child’s bow.

She laughed quietly behind on hand as Bilbo struggled to keep steady as well keep the arrow notched and drawn at the same time.

Her grandfather had shown her how to use a bow and arrow before but honestly Beth had no talent for the sport and only ever had been able to hit the target with enough force to lodge the arrows in it with the help of a modern compound bow with its helping pulley system. Something that has yet to be invented, so thus she made no move to try and out do even Bilbo, his shots at least where in the range of the target while hers would have been scattered around four feet in front of her sticking out this way and that. But if they started up the game she had played with them yesterday Beth was more than inclined to join in.

 

~*~

 

Gandalf watched the somewhat odd group as Thorin had the dwarves running ragged as Bilbo continued his tutoring of the common tongue to Beth. The Halfling seemed to be relish having the main duty of helping the human girl learn their language, if only because it was something he was comfortable with unlike swords, bows, and axes and the danger that seemed to sometimes stem from possessing weapons.

As he saw it, it was much easier to take a life and further conflict than to save a life and live in peace. Perhaps that is why he kept going back to the Shire, in hope to figure out how the hobbits had come to and kept such a peaceful existence for hundreds of years. The world of men in contrast seemed to be filled to the brim of strife and backstabbing. They where forever grasping for more power, wealth or information than what they already possessed, stomping on what little remained of their innocence.

It was from these cruel realities that the Grey Wizard was brought from when another presence appeared by his side.

“I must speak to you Mithrandir, about the human.” Came the silvery voice, yet even he was not sure if the words had been spoken aloud or inside his mind.

“There is something troubling you about her presence here in Imladris, my lady?” Gandalf responded, unsure of what might be amiss with the Lady of Lorien.

“I am concerned of what the girl has seen or rather what she has not seen.” Galadriel said ambiguously.

“Pardon me if I inquire of your meaning.” Gandalf said his interest heightened at her vagueness.

“She is not of the time of the Eldar, Mithrandir. Granddaughter of a Ranger she may be but she is not of this age or any known to me.” She said quietly, yet to Gandalf it seemed that a heavy weight had lifted slightly from the Lady’s shoulders.

“Do you mean to say…” He paused and then left the rest of his sentence to hang in the air in-between them unsaid.

“I do, this human girl you found in the woods is of an age that knows only the kind of man. Only faded shadows remain of the other races and even then written off as folk tales and myth. Even the Valar are seen as just false deities made of stone no more alive than the rock they where hewn from.” A silence stretched between the pair overlooking the dwarves, hobbit and human girl as a round of laughter rose up to them as Kíli and Fíli both took a tumble.

“Than what must be done with her?” The wizard posed the question they both had already thought of.

“She must leave this place, and hide her past. There are those who would seek to learn what she knows even though she knows nothing of this time. If what you believe to be true, that a darkness is rising again, the very fact that the race of man will become strong may change the actions that led to the future that she came from.”

“Perhaps Lord Elrond may have some idea of what we should do about her.” But at this suggestion the Elven Lady waved her hand in rebuttal.

 “I wish not to tell Elrond, at least not the whole truth,” She paused. “I know that the time of the Eldar is fading, but to see Imladris in such a state that it will eventually come to is a heavy burden to bear. It is not one that I would wish onto my daughter’s husband or my grandchildren.”

Gandalf nodded in understanding, “What shall you have me do with the girl Beth? If she is not to stay in the Last Homely House.”

“I feel that it would be advisable to return her to her own house and relations, though it shall be many months before any Rangers might come here, even longer. Longer than I would wish for her to be around my son-in-law, for he is no fool and would sooner have more questions than answers. And your company is traveling towards the city of Dale are they not? Last Lord Elrond has known that is near of where a great-uncle of hers resides. Men of that city would know of the place.” Galadriel trailed off knowing her meaning had been well understood.

“That is all very well and good but how do you recommend that I inform a dwarf such as Thorin that he is now to be burdened not only by a grocer, in his eyes, but also a human female?”

“You already know of that, Mithrandir.” Galadriel’s eyes twinkled slightly.

 

~*~

 

“What do you mean that the elves would care to house the human? Do they think that my men and I are no better protection than a flock of hens?” Thorin thundered at the wizard.

“I am sure that is not what they mean at all; indeed they surely must have only meant that you would have more pressing matters on hand to worry about a human girl. In the end they shall only be returning her to her distant relations, even if it would be quite a long time before they did so. There are Rangers who come to Imladris seeking rest or to report for information, though there has not been any for many months,” smoothly replied Gandalf.   
“I will not have these elves thinking that I or any of my kind are prone to dumping injured girls on their doorsteps and leave without so much as a by your leave.” The dwarf prince brooded.

“Then might I ask, what do you propose?” The grey wizard said.

“You say that she has family near of Dale? Then I see no reason to have the elves take credit for her safe return when it is such an inconvenience to them, when we go in that direction ourselves,” Thorin paused. “But if she is meant to go with us I shall see that the girl is not a burden or forever underfoot,” he groused.

“She was not so helpless when we met her in the woods if I recall correctly.” Gandalf replied, concealing the twitch of a smile. This had gone better than he had hoped; Thorin only had needed to think that he had thought of this option himself to accept it. Even if he was reluctant, he was also too proud to let any elf think that he was doing anything less than his obligations dictated.


	12. Lessons

Chapter 12

 

The scent of parchment and ink had filled the room that was lit by the fading light and around half a dozen candles scattered about the table that Bilbo and Beth where working at. At some point in the day he had asked Gandalf for the paper and writing supplies and had been using them to the best of his abilities to teach a little of written words since he had known that some people learn better from the physical act of writing and memorizing than just identifying objects. He was one of those types of learners.

Bilbo however had not counted on Beth’s inability to use a quill pen. She did not know how to strip the goose feathers efficiently, how to temper the quill in heated sand before cutting the angled tip with the sharp pen knife, not even to make the delicate slit in the tip end in such a way that it would not make unnecessary blots.

For how badly she also handled the quill pens the Halfling was halfway convinced she had not been educated in how to write as a child. But as she went on the letters quickly became better formed and the ink blots became less frequent, though Beth was still prone to try and write to quickly or move to suddenly and smudge a previously well written part.

Apparently Beth however had a different idea of what to use the paper for, she drew three columns. In the first she had Bilbo write the words she had been taught. The second she seemed to be writing down how to pronounce those words in the first with dashes and underlines that seemed to indicate inflections and the like. The final column he could only guess was the matching word in her language. The letters seeming to be a combination of Tengwar and some that had some little resemblance to Cirth runes, though seemingly evolved or changed so that none of the letters where exactly what he would have found in his own books.

At the moment they had moved from recording everything she had memorized the past two days, which surprisingly turned out to cover almost three pages, at least with her larger and clumsier handwriting. If it had been his tidy hand it probably would have half that but either way it did not truly matter how much paper they were using as long as it was helping her learn.

“Bilbo, what be call?” Beth asked with broken grammar, pointing to both the flame of the candle and the same in the fire place.

“What is it called,” he corrected and then as he wrote down the letters in the first column. “Fire.” Bilbo said as he wrote it down taking care to keep the letter forms were elementary as possible. Like those one would find in a hobbit child’s alphabet primer or those illustrated children’s books that where so expensive and now fashionable in the shire.

“Fiere,” Beth said, her pronunciation a bit off but understandable none the less. She first scribbled down how to say the word before also writing down its equivalent in her tongue as her brows furrowed in concentration. As Bilbo got up to get a drink he could hear Beth muttering her words, a mix of simple terms, numbers and descriptors.

He laughed to himself at her determined scowl, it had been hard for her to start over with a new language and they had not even thought to start introducing her to their customs or manners. Gandalf had told them to take just one step at a time when Bifur had remarked earlier at her lack of manners.

  
“It is to be expected for her to not know their ways or know certain things that might give offense to their sense of propriety,” Gandalf had said. “She is a long way from home and we cannot assume that all of her customs could possibly be the same as theirs.”

This made sense to the Halfling, for even the difference between the dwarves and his kind confused him to no end. He could understand, at least a little, what it had been like for her so far in having to learn an entire way to interact with others and how to conduct herself. He could see hints of her true personality but he could tell that the human kept most of herself back, hesitant of this unknown world. However her show of bravado the other day and her stubbornness when it came to not giving up her unconventional clothing spoke to her seemingly obstinate will and tenacity.

 

~*~

 

Later that night when everyone had retired, Thorin Oakenshield was brooding per usual. Pipe in one hand while the other traced the drawn lines in his father’s and grandfather’s map. He had memorized every line and stroke and stain on that worn piece of vellum. Smaug still flew victoriously, defiantly over his home guarding the treasure within. The ink red as blood.

And much blood had and would be spilt on account of this monster, the blood of his people and that of the men of Dale had long been spilt upon the ground, bathing the stones of Erebor in scarlet turned to brown dust. To think that no more would bloodshed would happen whether they tried to retake the mountain or did not was foolish.

While the dragon Smaug had not been seen for many years but if anyone thought that they could just walk in and reclaim the treasure that was by right his people’s inheritance, they would be sadly mistaken. Thorin and his men would not sit idly by and let any men or elves or even creatures of darkness such as goblins or orcs take what was theirs. They had suffered too much and been homeless too long to allow such an affront, he would die before letting his people go without their legacy. He had inherited this burden and he would either carry it out or perish trying.

As he thought over ways to kill the dragon without getting everyone killed as well, most ideas hinged on the hidden door they had yet to find a location for. As he reached over to move a guttering candle closer, so as to see better now that the sun had gone down well past the horizon, he noticed some sheets of parchment still laying on the table. The hobbit and the girl must have forgotten them, he mused silently as he sifted through them.

The first few where so riddled with blots and smears of ink that they were indiscernible to even the sharpest eye. However the writer quickly improved and soon Thorin came to the neat columns of three, he could read words in the first column. Written by Master Bilbo in Westron, the other two columns on the other hand he could not discern.

He had worried for a little while that not only would be have to drag a useless Halfling and now a human girl around but also that she would not be able to understand any of them. But she seemed to have more brains than many of the men he had encountered working as a smith. She could write and read, even if it was in a different tongue, rather odd for a woman of apparently no remarkable birth other than her relation to the Dunedin. But even the rangers were not known for their scholarly ways, they were more adept at the ways of war and staying hidden in the shadows than to be reading or the like.

The last page he saw was different than the others. There were no columns, and hardly any blotches. Instead it seemed to be more like one of Ori’s journal entries, but entirely in her hand and tongue. Perhaps she wrote of the company or the elves, either way he did not care. So long as she did not write of the elves in an overly friendly manner.

She was quickly learning Westron and tomorrow he had already decided she would learn to be able to better defend herself as well. It was one thing to be light on one’s feet and knock a balanced ball from another’s grasp. In the wilderness such clever tricks could not be mulled over at length, you would be soon and rightly dead if you should. No, tomorrow the girl Beth would start her sped up lessons in using the short-sword and archery, for surely she was too slight of frame to use anything but those, he could practically see her toppling over if she ever tried to swing Orcrist much less even one of Dwalin’s axes. No she would have to make use of her lightness of feet and speed if she was to have any hope of being not a burden in his mind.

Thorin could only hope she would be as quick as a learner in the ways of war as she was in languages. Though when he thought about it she had done rather well when they had first come upon her in the woods and then she had only had use of a wooden box and her own two hands. Maybe she would surprise him yet.


	13. A Surprise Attack

Chapter 13

 

The day had started off as normal as could be allowed, Beth thought as a wooden practice sword quickly came towards her face. Well as normal as it could get with being in the company of dwarves, elves, wizards and one hobbit in a world that was hers yet at the same time it was not one she knew at all. She turned quickly, trying to catch the handle of the sword and missed, batting at what would have been the sharp edge instead. Fumbling she tried to get a grip on the smooth and well worn wood but to no avail and it ended up hitting the ground with a slight puff of dust and a solid thud.

There were a few snickers of the brothers who were standing off to the side, Beth turned and glared at them both as she picked the practice sword up. She could only be thankful that it was just those two and Bilbo, everyone else was off training on their own.

The sword was heavier than she realized, though on closer inspection of the hilt it seemed to have a core made of lead that probably went through the whole length of the sword as to both balance it and build up arm strength. Gripping the handle with both hands, Beth immediately regretted letting her weights lay abandoned under her bed to collect dust. She always had intended to eat better and lift weights but never had.

She turned around to see the slightest hint of a smirk flee from Thorin’s face, his normal taciturn look replacing anything that might be considered to be mirth. He was all business, quite like how her grandfather often became in contrast with her memories of her lighthearted parents. She wondered if maybe the similarity came from the different eras they had been raised in.

Gripping the handle of the practice sword Beth thought she was ready for these lessons, ready for the same type of beating that Bilbo seemed to get every time he went to practice. But Thorin had that look that her grandmother had gotten anytime she tried to help cook; she had always been useless in the kitchen and forever doing things wrong.

He said something rather long and winded and included none of Beth’s limited vocabulary. Her blank look seemed to be enough of a hint and he came over and corrected her hand position and corrected her stance and posture for good measure. Seemed like she was not doing anything right other than to keep the pointy end away from herself. This was going to be a long afternoon.

…

They had only been going at it for maybe an hour and Beth already felt as if her arm where either going to fall off or just turn to useless rubber. And they had only been practicing blocking and she had only been able to try and swing at Thorin a few times. Each time she thought that she had moved quickly enough Thorin blocked her swing with ease or moved with such speed that was not hinted at by his sturdy mass that she was swinging at empty air. A very clumsy swing at that.

Sure Beth did not think that she was going to instantly become a wizard of swordplay within moments. But this was getting ridiculous; she could tell that he was holding back. She had seen Thorin spar with the others and this could hardly be called teaching let alone sparring. Sure there was the lack of the ability to verbally explain but this seemed to be a more visual learning.

She seemed to be covered in more sweat than bruises, in truth she had not been hit with enough force to leave any bruises much less sting. He did not think her able to keep up, and she chaffed at the idea. Even her own time Beth had felt that she had to work twice as hard and twice as long as the men in her class to be seen on the same standing in her classes. That feeling of yet again having to crawl up a hill made of sand, made her angrier than Beth could have imagined.

She continued trying to place a hit with more ferocity than before, only to be denied again. But when he stopped mid swing so not to hit her Beth Hale had had enough.

“Are you fricking kidding me? How in the hell I am going to defend myself when you treat me with kid gloves?” Beth railed. She would not be coddled or handled with extra care just because she was female. She might not have really seen those monster-wolves that first day but she sure knew that she would not last a minute again such creatures as she was now.

She watched as Thorin’s eyes slightly widened at her outburst and narrow again, his stance changing ever slightly. Apparently her meaning had been understood well enough even if her words where not ones he was familiar with.

He started slowly circling her; apparently he was not one to beat around the bush with anything that he did. There was control in his blocky frame; he moved in a confident and controlled way but not stilted at all. For a moment Thorin reminded her of a predator circling an injured animal, unfortunately she was pretty sure that wounded animal was her.  
Beth kept the sword held out defensively as she shuffled to keep her back away from him. She knew enough to do at least that and keep her feet connected to the ground to lessen the chance of attack. This went on for a few more moments before Thorin exploded in a quick burst.

Before Beth had the chance to react he had knocked her sword right out of her grasp.

It landed several feet away with a thud and when she turned to retrieve it Beth found his practice sword at her neck. He said just one word that she could only assume was along the line of “dead”. His meaning was obvious enough.

Beth knocked the sword away from her person and went to pick up her now dusty one, her hands stung horribly from just that one hit and it was surely going to get worse but she was not about to show that it hurt. She was not ready to give up so quickly.

…

Under a thickly leaved tree Gandalf watched as everyone, with the exception of Bilbo, had been paired off for sparing. But unlike the other groups one stood out from the rest. Thorin was not withholding anything after Beth’s little outburst. That had not surprised him in the least; the dwarf should have known that the human could tell the different between being coddled and really learning. But the fact that she had yet to give up after having had her sword knocked violently knocked away from her more times than even Gandalf would like to think of.

It is not to say that he was precisely surprised of how the situation had turned out thus far. Beth had to know on some level that goading Thorin would likely work, often more than wished, but worked none-the-less. Honestly Gandalf just wanted to see who would bow out first, the human or the dwarf.

At the looks of it Beth may have hit upon, if not a winning strategy, one that would allow her to some amount of control. She was playing at either the coward’s or smart warrior’s way, keeping as far away as possible and trying to avoid as many attacks as achievable. If she was going to be able to do anything it would be to keep light on her feet and be faster than the battle tried dwarf prince.

Either way it was almost the dinner hour, so they just might have to continue their little battle of wills on the morrow.

…

It was only on the second day that Beth had finally been able to keep a hold on her weapon when Thorin’s connected with a load smack. It had been a wonderful accomplishment to not have it fly out of her hands, for about five milliseconds before a well placed parry knocked it from her then. But that one defended hit had been enough to bolster her waning spirit and her aching arms, and just all of her body in general. The first morning had been the hardest to get herself up and out of bed. She had had aches and pains in muscles she only known existed because of extensive anatomy classes.

But Beth had discovered a wonderful motivator to getting up in the early morning hours when her appendages felt more like jello than solid bone and muscle. Because letting Thorin win was not an option. Eventually one of these training days she would gain some advantage, and Beth Hale had the greatest suspicion that she would not gain it with completely honest efforts. No, she would have to rely on cleverness to land some type of hit. And she was the “man with a plan” so to say.

…

It was now the fifth day and Beth had not yet been able to implement her slightly underhanded and dastardly scheme. She had also more firmly come to the conclusion that she would be able to gain the upper hand was through perhaps un-honorable methods, but then again when they were out in the wilds she highly doubted that wolves had any sense of the word honor much less have any.

But today somehow she knew was the day, maybe it was the fact that she had woken up not completely feeling like a plastic bag full of jello. Or perhaps it was because she had been able to block a grand total of ten attacks without losing a hold of her weapon, even if every blow had stung all the way up her arms and into her shoulders. She just had to wait for the right moment.

The lesson had gone on as all the others had in the days before, Beth trying to keep her footing and her sword and failing to do so more often than not. For a moment she had almost resigned herself to again not having come close to making an attack of any sort, when it happened.

Thorin lunged forward and knocked her sword from her hand yet again, but this time he had come to close. Beth did not even try to keep a hold of the sword and it went flying off, but that was not her concern at the moment. She spun slightly, channeling the momentum of Thorin’s attack into her own speed. Cupping her palm Beth went for the sweet spot and hit him square on the ear, while avoiding his retaliation attack all together.

…

Thorin had not realized how fast Beth was moving until it was too late and suddenly his left ear was ringing and his vision went fuzzy for a moment. But that moment was long enough for Beth to suddenly retrieve her wooden practice sword again and deliver a hit of her own. He blocked it easy enough; he had experienced worse hits before and quickly shook it off. It had been the shock and suddenness of the attack that had surprised him. He should have known better after all she had done to his nephews with her bag, a wooden box and general dirty fighting. Yet somehow he had not considered she might do a similar thing during training.

Thorin unarmed her again, taking care to stay out of arm’s reach this time. She might just not be that much of an impediment after all.

But just before they could go at it again there came a muffled cry from the general vicinity of the rest of him men who where sparing not with wooden practice swords but live steel.

…

She was an odd one, a proper puzzle indeed. Thorin could at least now assume that she was at some length versed in the ways of healing that much was apparent when Bofur had gotten rather badly cut during practice this afternoon. The human, Beth, had not bat an eye at the blood as she ripped off Bofur’s sleeve at the shoulder with an efficiency that spoke of years practice and then proceeded to use her belt as a tunicate to stem the worst of the bleeding.

Gandalf had later informed him that the elven healers had said that Bofur could have been in a very bad way if she had not thought so quickly. Her actions had saved his friend a great amount of blood and a line of stitches had been enough to remedy the situation with little fuss. Surely she would not be complete dead weight, or so Gandalf would have him think. And the human was certainly starting to earn a little bit of respect. At least she had the stomach for blood so that she did not swoon like some prim ladies did at the slight of it.

…

Later that night Beth lay awake for a long while. The events earlier that afternoon of her improvement in the fight had been forgotten. Instead she lay unable to sleep because of what had happened so soon after. It was not that she had been disturbed by the slight of blood on Bofur’s arm, or even the wound itself. She had seen worse as an EMT, even come upon some scenes so horrible that nothing could be done but try to forget at night how violent the human race could be to each other or even themselves.

It had not been the slight of him getting sewn up. She had done that several times to many others. But it was what had happened afterward that disturbed her. After the elves had cleaned the wound with alcohol and healing herbs most of which she was at least slightly familiar with, they had laid hands upon the wound. It had almost looked as if they were praying or doing some type of healing meditation, again nothing that strange that she had not seen something like that before. A foreign pulse of…energy was the only way she could describe it had seemed to surround the healer and patient. But it had not felt healing to Beth as it had obviously been for Bofur. Instead it had made her skin burn as if on fire, worst than any burn she had ever felt. It had gone as quickly as it had come but left her weak in the knees and ready to puke. Yet when she had looked over where it had been most painful, there was nothing wrong.


	14. A Short Flight

Beth had taken to writing down the number of days since she had, well, fallen into the company that she was now in. She had started to hide this scrap of parchment in the secret compartment in her grandfather’s box. Not because it was really secret, but the idea that she had something hidden away that was only hers and for no one else’s eyes. 

The recording of her days and thoughts helped not only to cement her grasp on the reality of her situation but also it was a place to pour out everything that she could not speak of to anyone else. Beth had one morning gotten the horrible idea in her head that she might change or mess up some little thing that would in turn change the course of how things should have been and the time she had been from. What if by some random act she caused one of her ancestor’s death? What would happen then, would she cease to exist? And as she had thought about it more it had started to make sense to her, for with how far back she was Beth did not really know but the further back in time one goes the more ancestors one seems to acquire. Sure everyone has four grandparents, but that doubles to eight great-grandparents, then sixteen great-great-grandparents, and just continues to double each generation you go back. Before you know it you suddenly have an impractical quantity of people, who you have no idea who they are, that you very much hope will live so that you in turn will exist. All in all she wished she had not ever thought of such a situation. 

It was a little bit maddening, and she needed every ounce of her sanity now that they were set to leave this pocket of relative safety with the elves. She could at least sort of pretend that everything was mostly normal here, if she ignored the fact that she had hardly seen any other humans. Well with the exception to the one human woman and her young son, but she had only seen them from a distance a time or two and would not have been able to converse even if she had tried to talk with her. However, Beth could only guess why they would be here, in this time-frozen place. Later, much later this city of peace and plenty will become abandoned, forgotten, and rediscovered again in the modern era. For now, this strange time forgotten place had no true room for just mere mortal human beings.

………………….

 

The night was getting late and the candle sputtered as threatened to gutter out with how low it had become, but Beth had to make one last check over the contents of her bag. The elves had been most kind and generous with their giving but Gandalf had limited what she would have to carry. It made sense, but she had been rather off put to have to leave the silken dress behind not that it would have been any use to her in the wilderness. She did however insist on a few essentials. Namely, soap of course, and hidden at the bottom were her jeans, the rest of modern clothing having been rather destroyed and not worth mending.

Another recent addition to her load was her now returned gun. It had just appeared on the desk in her room one afternoon when she had been out training; Beth had a sneaking suspicion that it had been Gandalf all along who had taken it that day. She had not seen him take it in the confusion; the only thing missing was one lonely bullet. Strange but she was not about to go asking around for it. Instead, she had made better use of her time by making a holster from fabric and leather scraps.

In the morning, or five hours from now, they are to leave for her grandfather’s house on the way to the dwarves’ mountain home. Even when she did finally blow out the dying candle and went to bed, Beth did not sleep a wink. She was too worried about the unknown and all too unfamiliar world that she was now living in to truly rest.

 

………………….

 

The light had barely come up above the steep hills surrounding Rivendell; the light would not reach the city for some hours yet. They set out on the winding paths above the city that led north and east; Beth only figured this out by the blinding sun in their eyes. It was also apparently still a little too early for talking of any length longer than two words, with grunting being included in that count. Not really that Beth minded that at all, she was more than willing to stay silent if it meant she could better keep a look out for stones and roots that were made to trip and low hanging branches that seemed to have great pleasure in swatting her unprotected face. She was however eternally grateful that they were just normal branches instead of briars.

It was not until, what she surmised had been two or three hours though she could have been very wrong since she had not really mastered the art of telling time by the sun’s position in the sky, that someone a few dwarves behind her and Bilbo had started whistling a deep and mellow tune. It seemed to be a tune they all knew, with the exception of Bilbo and herself, a few of the other dwarves whistled or even softly sang deeply words the human and the hobbit did not understand. Even the wizard took to humming along, his eyes twinkling in that now familiar way that they did when he was either planning something that would likely rile more than a few dwarven tempers, or that he was exceedingly happy.

Not knowing the words to the song, Beth contented herself with humming along with Gandalf. After the first few rounds it had not been that hard to pick up, and she had that nagging feeling that she had been occasionally getting that it was just a pinch away from being familiar. Perhaps the tune itself would be remembered and evolve into whatever old folk song that it had become in her time. Merely the shadow of an age that had been forgotten or disbelieved as just myth and tale, Beth wondered what else from the supposed “fairy tales” of her childhood might have been at least based in fact if not entirely true.

………………….

 

One thing that Beth could be sure of however was her skills as a nurse, or healer as Gandalf had put it. Other than her main pack of clothes and other essentials, which she managed to stuff into her own bag, Beth had been gifted a small cloth sack filled with the tools of her trade. The cloth had been waterproofed with wax to keep everything inside as dry as possible. Healing herbs that could be used from treating the general gambit of illness that could pop up while traveling, the inner bark of slippery elm for scrapes and burns, skullcap and ginger for headache or queasy stomach, athelas and witch hazel to keep deep cuts from festering, agrimony to stop bleeding, and milk of the poppy for pains that where worse than the mere ache of discomfort. There were a few other such dried up plants but Beth had been more familiar with their modern-day synthetic counterparts and had only committed to memory the others, with time she would learn their properties better as well. There was also an assortment of needles, curved and straight, for whatever wound she might encounter, inside a pocket of the bag was a goodly amount of thin silken thread to be used for stitches, a sharp pair of shears, and an assortment of knives ranging in size, and sturdy leather tourniquets Beth hoped that she would not have to do anything major in the way of surgery. For when she had first been given the satchel, she had been confused why they had included a slim wooden cylinder with everything else. When she had inquired about it to Gandalf, he had looked slightly surprised before explaining it was for whomever, she was working on, to bite on so as not to break their teeth or accidentally bite through their tongue in pain. It had only been then that Beth had realized that there would been no anesthetic or sedative in this time for her to use, if it was a long procedure it would be better for them to faint from the pain since there was little else to be done.

Fortunately, the first few days for their trek went without mishap, and after that there was only a few bad scrapes, which the dwarves refused to let her look at for fear that it would appear that they could not handle such trivial wounds. Beth’s insistence on infection in such unclean conditions had fallen on supposedly deaf ears, and Bilbo had urged her to leave such small matters alone and to save her arguments for when they were better needed.

It was only a day or so after that conversation that Beth was glad she had listened to the hobbit. After another rather horrid night sleeping on the ground, conditions under which she would not have slept usually but seeing as Beth, and everyone else for that matter, was exhausted after the day’s journey they all promptly fell asleep the instant they lay their heads down on their stony pillows. The first few nights they had let Beth sleep the whole night through, but after the forth night it was determined that she would also sit on night watch for a time with Bifur and Bofur during their watch, which was just fine with her. All they really had to do was keep quiet enough to let the others sleep in peace, which really was not that had since the rest of the sleeping dwarves made a bit of noise themselves with all the snoring that occurred.

This day however had been misty and damp from the start, one could hardly see through the trees just twenty feet off on account of the mist being so thick and white. However, that was not too horrible in itself. No, it had really started to turn hazardous when the rain had started. First, there was the distant rumble of thunder that had everyone digging in their packs for their best-waterproofed cloak if it was not yet already out. Then the first drops had fallen, and humongous drops they were. It was if the sky had combined four or five normal sized raindrops into one monstrously sized drop.

And as expected the heaven opened up and poured down upon the travelers, within minutes everyone was well and thoroughly soaked through. Beth had to keep making faces from when the water reached her underwear, making for a very cold and uncomfortable walk. But no one else complained and she was not about to start.

The rain alone of course would not have been the worst thing, just a huge inconvenient that could be dried in front of the fire later. It was the fact that their path had changed from earthen forest path, into a steep and narrow pathway of rock. Rock that was extremely slippery when wet. It did not help either that while on one side of the path there was a rather sudden drop that Beth could not rightly tell how far down it went because of the severity of the rain, affecting the visibility of everything.

Beth was more than content to clutch tightly onto Bofur’s shirtsleeve when he had offered it. Her other hand grasping to handholds in the mountainside of the steep and winding pathway, instead of shielding her eyes to the torrent, he had shouted that they would be stopping as soon as those in front found a suitable place for the whole lot of them.

They continued on like this, for how long Beth never knew. As those now further in front of Beth and Bofur turned a corner and could no longer be seen, all of a sudden there was a dull rumble and the pathway shook and trembled for several long moments before returning to just the now normal deluge. From Bofur’s concerned face, Beth could only surmise that it had been a landslide or mudslide or the like that had happened in front of them. She did not realize they had stopped until Bofur had her let go of his arm and carefully started edging towards where the sound had come from. After several long moments of no sight of anyone coming back, and Bofur having also gone around the corner and disappeared, Beth let go of the breath she had been holding when he popped back around the corner. He hurried back to her as quickly as the elements allowed for safe travel.

“No need to be worried there, Beth.” Bofur said in his normal cheerful voice, “Just a wee little landslide up ahead, everyone in front is all safe, if not a little pelted by some pebbles now as well as rain. Just have a little jump across to their side now. No need to worry at all.”

However, when they got around the corner, Beth was struck at how not little the jump was. Where there once had been part of the mountainside path was now a gap of at least 15 if not 20 feet or more. There was no way she was going to be able to jump that yawning gap that wished to swallow her whole.

She turned to Bofur with eyes wide with fear, “I cannot make that!” Beth said in desperation.

“That’s fine you don’t have to jump.” Bofur said, and for an instant, Beth relaxed. “I’ll just throw you.” With only that as her warning, Bofur scooped her up and tossed the human girl over the abyss.

For an instant, Beth was frozen unable to process anything, but then the fear kicked in. As she practically flew through the air, pelted by rain that felt more like hail, Beth suddenly focused on the other side of the breach and immediately zoned in on the pair of hands and arms outstretched to catch her. She did not even have time to think everything was going to be ok when she saw that she was going to go too far

Stretching her arms out as far as she could Beth felt her legs treading the air instinctively, as if to keep her body from slamming to hard into her catcher. Right before impact, a pair of rough and solid hands caught a hold of her around the waist before he too fell down. Thankfully, directly onto the pathway and not out into nothingness as she had feared would happen.

For a long moment Beth could not find herself able to catch her breath, she had collided directly into hard armor and a sword pommel was digging into her stomach. Gasping and coughing for air Beth felt her catcher sit up and force her into a sitting position as well. When she had caught a breath she finally noticed who’s hands where pounding her back to help improve her breathing. It was Thorin. Dripping wet as he was he seemed hardly effected by her being literally thrown into him. She only noticed the heavily bleeding cut above his eye when he turned a dower glare at Bofur when he jumped across.

“Did you think to knock me off the side of the mountain with her?” He grumbled at his friend.

Bofur just shrugged with a sheepish smile, “She was lighter than I expected, flew just a little further than intended.”

 

………………….................................................................

 

Sorry, about the lack of updates but until after with finishing my senior year in university, I had little time to write much less sleep. So bear with the big break in-between chapters these summer months will hopefully bring more time for me to work on this and other projects I had to put to the side. Also I don’t have internet at home at the moment so that will be effecting posts too, but hopefully I can write more and then post it afterward.

Thanks for the patience and support! – H.D. Lynn

 


	15. Shifting Sand

Kíli and Fíli had apparently found the shelter just before the rockslide and now as everyone started filling into the cave they were all grateful no one had been lost today. The cave went back rather far and surprisingly had a covering of soft sand covering the otherwise barren floor. As Beth worked on the few injuries from the landslide, she could hear the wind and rain whistle by with a greater ferocity than before.

Thankfully, no one had perished this day, for the results of the day could have been much more gruesome if the lead group had been a few moments behind or her group traveling a little faster. Otherwise who knows how many of them would have been caught and gone over the edge, as it had crumbled. The worst injury, in fact, was that Balin had dislocated his shoulder due to a large rouge stone. Really, he had been very lucky, Beth thought after having pulled the bones back into place with little effort or pain on Balin’s part. Had the rock been a little higher and to the right just a little bit and he would have gotten quite the hit to the back of his head. 

It could have been debilitating if not deadly wound, though Balin and Dwalin both assured her that they dwarves had sturdy heads. Not like her comparatively fragile human one, compared her head to an egg and theirs to granite they did. Dwalin even made an example of Bifur, with part of a rusting ax still lodged in his skull.  
“Bifur is really no worse off than he was before. Never were one to talk much and he can communicate whatever he likes with hand signs.” Dwalin explained in simple terms to Beth seeing as her vocabulary, while always expanding, was still rather limited. Her understanding of Westron words was rather fluent. More so than her ability to put those same words together on her own, not unlike being able to read but not able to write. “Never did see human or elf survive such a blow, only Au _lë_ the smith could fashion such a race with sturdy heads like ours.”

Beth understood in general what he meant, though she was not entirely certain whether this Aulë was the first dwarven ancestor or 

Her grandmother had believed in the “holy ones” or the Anor who had been created to oversee the whole of Arda by the first powerful being the believers called Erou or “the nameless one”. Nevertheless, her’s had been an ancient belief that Beth, was now ashamed to say, had not cared to spend time to learn about. Sure, she had learned a few prayers, only because her grandparents said them at meals and her bedtime when she had been younger. Moreover, after her grandmother’s death her grandfather, whom she now would have thought would have been more of a believer coming from the time he had been born in, she had let the old ways slip away. Perhaps the reminder of his beloved wife and friend had been too hard to bear.

Either way, Beth was vastly unaware of the old ways, much less how they might changed into what her grandmother had known. One small change she had noted was that they named Erou as Eru, slight in pronunciation like other words of theirs that she found familiar, but very telling in how such a singular and simple name would change in time.

With a smile to Dwalin’s statements, Beth went over to look over the cuts on Ori’s hands. The shy dwarf had been forced to cling to the mountainside with painful but not terribly deep repercussions. She deemed the cuts not large enough to warrant any stitches, just some ointment infused with witch hazel and agrimony and some clean bandages from her pack did the trick. When Ori put his fingerless mittens back on, one could hardly see the bandages either.

After minimal fussing over a few other bad scrapes and cuts of the others, Beth could not see any other injuries to speak of, with just one glaring exception.

Beth walked over to the other side of the cave and set her bag down authoritatively on the rock shelf by Thorin. His head wound had stopped bleeding for the most part, but Beth could tell it was deep and would probably start bleeding again when she started cleaning it. Really, she should have stitched him up first but she instinctively knew he would have refused if someone else of his group was in need of medical attention, no matter how little it might have been. So she had steered clear of him until everyone else had been looked after.

But now with her best no-nonsense nurse voice on Beth was not going to take no for answer. “Everyone I take care of need clean and sew face.” She winced inwardly at her inadvertent butchering of grammar, only hear the mistakes after having spoken, but she was not about to back down because of that.

For a moment she saw a glimmer of stubbornness, Thorin was probably not use to being ordered around with any aspect of his life, but it flickered out and evolved into a grudging shrug. Beth was sure she did not control the surprise from her face at the easy win, but chalked it up to the long and rather awful day. No one was in the mood for any sort of argument in that they did not have the energy for such things.

Taking a damp cloth, for they surely had more clean rainwater than they really needed, Beth started to clean the gash. It ran for about half an inch directly above Thorin’s dark eyebrow. Just an inch lower and he would have lost the eye. As the crusty and dried blood came off the wound bled anew, Beth did not worry about it since most head wounds bleed badly. In fact, it was in some ways good since it flushed any dirt out of the gash. When the bleeding stemmed she cleaned it again with some wine Bilbo had brought her on request. Thorin had only flinched slightly at the sting of the alcohol, but it was the best cleaning agent she could make do with now.

She picked out a curved needle and sanitized it over the fire. After it had cool sufficiently Beth threaded it with practiced ease and set to work. She had never been one to enjoy this particular part of her job but with four small stitches, which she knew had to hurt more than Thorin let on, the job was done.

As Beth gently sponged off the last bits of blood from Thorin’s wide forehead, she forced herself to stay completely and utterly professional. It was hardly professional to be so attracted to those blue eyes that had pierced her own every time she had glanced up from her ministration. She also most assuredly did not have to push aside the thought to brush away the dark hair sprinkled with just a hint of salt from the other side of his face. She had only done it on the other side because it would have impeded her work.

“All do.” Beth said in an accent that sounded rather nasally, especially to the dwarves and their deep tones, she also continued to mix up her tenses in the most flagrant manner. 

Her lying to herself about her attraction to Thorin was complete bull-crap, and Beth Hale knew it. However, she found herself steeling herself towards such feelings and bitterly laughed at herself on the inside. Here she was trying to find her grandfather’s family, knowing that will be when she will separate from the group at that time. There was also the fact that they were from separate races, and from what she had gathered, at least from the elves’ and dwarves’ relationship, races did not intermingle in that way. Heaven forbid she factor in the time difference. She had talked to Gandalf and Galadriel on that point and they had all come to conclusion it was best that she hide that factoid of her life and say that she had been raised far to the east of the lands of Gondor, nearer of Hildorien, Gandalf said. This explaining way her turn of speech and language differences and she was hardly going to run into someone truly from there to expose the ruse.

Beth did herself a little bit of a concession that she was allowing herself to recognize that she found Thorin attractive. After all what harm could come of admiring someone like him from afar?  
She was now hurriedly putting away the tools of her trade back into the satchel, after cleaning everything off, when what sounded like a loud crash of thunder echoed down the valley, making Beth jump badly in surprise. Thorin must have seen her jump and the hand that went to her throat in an instinctual movement.

“Do not worry,” He said. “It was probably just a stray boulder from the stone-giants battling in the next valley.”

From her incredulous and deadpan look, he could tell she did not believe him until another rock crashed closer to the mouth of the cave than the other one before.

Beth’s eyes where wide, “S-sone-gants?” She questioned with rather bad pronunciation, but understanding the main idea of the fore spoken words.  
“They probably will not come into this valley if we are lucky. They do not tend to move very far from their resting places.” With that he stood up and headed over to the small fire that had been made in the middle of the cave for some warmed over leftovers that had been scrapped together by the others, leaving Beth gapping like a fish from incredulity and no little amount of distress.

 

………………….

 

Thorin could not have helped but notice the color that had sprung on Beth Hale’s cheeks and nose when she had caught him staring, and he had not apologized for it. In fact, he found it rather humorous the way she had turned all business on him. Little of the temper he had seen in the training grounds had so quickly disappeared, like water in a hot pan that turned to steam.

Earlier however, when Bofur has thrown her over the crevasse, the look of pure shock had only brought up the rather eventful day of their meeting. The reminder of how he had acted that day so many weeks ago had soured his mood in a way that the danger of the landslide had not.

Her blushes had appealed to his male ego more than he wished to admit. It had even left him in a slight teasing mood. It really had been funny to see how she gapped at the thought of stone-giants. However, at the same time her reaction had been slightly puzzling. Surely, he thought, that even someone raised so far to the east would have grown up hearing tales from her grandfather of the giants made of stone that guarded mountain passes and could as easily tear the side of a mountain down as build it right back up. Then again, she had had similar reactions to other things he found common place. Like how some birds such as the thrush and crow could be spoken to, understand Westron, and bear messages. She had not been taught the tongue of her grandfather’s people which he thought strange as well, but he explained it away as a trying to fit into the society she had been raised. Surely, she was not intentionally hiding anything from them with how friendly and open of a manner she seemed to possess while Beth had been with the company, but at times he did wonder if that was entirely true.

 

………………….

 

To say Beth was sleeping extremely soundly that night would be in part a lie. Her clothing had been slow to dry and even as the night wore on her clothes still held onto their cold dampness that was not dispelled by the now dying embers of the small fire they had all become huddled around.

It was during one of these, half-waking half-sleeping, moments that she heard something rather odd. A quiet sifting of sand, as if in a large hourglass. Her eyes cracked open only seeing the darkness of the cave for a moment, the sound of the rain almost drowning out the sound she thought she had heard. Looking around she saw two figures by the mouth of the cave. Talking in hushed tones about what she was able to here and thus did not have any idea what it was they talked about. They apparently did not hear what she did however.

It seemed to be getting slightly louder, and Beth was now quite sure that it was the sand. She had only just made that assumption when the floor opened up and darkness swallowed her and everyone else up whole.


	16. A Scent Most Fair

After what only seemed like an instant, Beth had stopped falling and landed with a solid thump. The breath was driven out of her body in a painful manner. For she had landed on something hard, either one of the company or whatever they had landed on. It probably was the former seeing as she herself had someone else drop on her.

Beth made a sound that was a mix between a wheeze and a shriek. Not that she really had time to inquire what it sounded like in particular. For before she could catch her breath, Beth became aware of eerie screams, shrieks and ominous laughter, if it could be called such, that was getting so close that she was sure that whomever was making such unearthly sounds could not be human at all.

Before she even saw the creatures making the horrid sounds they where upon them. They where sickly pale, like other things that lived in caves that had become albino and blind and generally had nasty teeth. These creatures, while not blind, did have nasty teeth, ugly faces, and smelled of death.

As they were being forcibly removed from the trap they had fallen into, someone had the presence of mind to force a knitted cap on her head and a bulky woolen coat shoved on her by someone else. Probably a good idea, for some reason she did not think it would be wise for these things, whatever they where, to discover her gender.

After they had been stripped of their weapons and other possessions they where marched, or more pushed and dragged, along hazardous looking bridges that looked to be held together with string and air. Hardly safe to be running and being dragged on with such a large number.

Beth’s bag was gone now, gun and all, along with the short sword she had been given to use so that she would not be weaponless. Little did they know that had been rather far from the truth, well until everything was taken of course, little use she was without a gun in this current situation. Sharp items where pointed at everyone from all angles, only some were actually forged weapons, others seemed to be more like sharpened sticks some with shards of rocks tied to them.

They were brought to a huge platform, about as sturdy and haphazard looking as the bridges, being not at all. But the shoddy looking construction only gave a few creaks and groans in protest at the weight of them all but was not shaky as Beth would have thought. The fires all around them gave off a sickly yellow light and sputtered with foul smoke that smelled sulfurous that made her head ache from the stench.

She felt, more than saw, Bofur trying to stay near her to watch out for her but not so hovering that it would draw unwanted attention. Not that it really mattered when they were all prodded into a tightly compact huddle. Personal space drops very low on one’s list of necessities when faced with rusty knives, whips, and possibly an old shovel.

 

………………

 

To say Thorin was perturbed at the present situation was an understatement. As he glanced around at their sneering captors, Thorin could barely contain a groan at his self-perceived stupidity. He should have known from the first the cave was set up as a trap. He should have taken note that the sandy floor did not have the general mess of bird and or bat droppings that places in the wilderness always accumulated. Even if he did blame the blow to the head, Thorin knew he had let himself to become…distracted. Really, it should be laughable. The thought that he might have been too distracted, by the blushes of a human female none-the-less, to see the now rather obvious telltale signs of a trap. That was laughable indeed.

It was too late to be regretting the road already walked down when there was no turning back. At the very least, he was momentarily grateful to whomever had outfitted Beth with that hat and coat. She looked more like a prepubescent human boy at the moment versus a dwarf, but that was better to the alternative of the goblins knowing that she was in fact female. It was also troubling that Gandalf was nowhere to be seen. Where the old wizard had gotten to when he was so greatly needed he had no idea.  
He really had too much to think about right now than having to add that to his list. For in front of the writhing mass of putrid goblins sat on a chaotic throne what could be described as the largest, foulest, looking lump of lard he had ever seen that had an even larger head with bulbous and glazed eyes. Otherwise known as the Great Goblin of the Misty Mountains. Hair thinning to the extreme was stuck all about his great head by grease and sweat, and he held a makeshift scepter covered in skull and shrunken heads of many of the different species in Arda. Most notably one that looked as if it could have one time been an elf, or then again it might have been a human. It really is hard to tell which one it was seeing as it was a shrunken head after all.

The fact that they had not already been flayed, skinned, and prepared for breakfast, showed that they still had some glimmer of hope if their leader had yet to decide what to do with them. There was still very much the possibility that they may be eaten or made into slaves and then eaten. But there was also the possibility, however slight, that they could yet be let go or escape.

The Goblin King, perched on his seat, overlooking the proceedings as their weapons where tossed in pile before him and their bags searched by the smaller goblins at his feet.

“Who are these miserable creatures who have tried to come armed into my kingdom?” Came from the Goblin king.

“Dwarves,” said one of their captors.  
“And this thing, they were hiding out on one of the porches they were.” Added another who then proceeded to shove a small figure forward.

For a moment, Thorin thought that it was Beth, and his veins filled with ice. He then saw the curly head of the figure and soon came to the correct conclusion that it was in fact Bilbo. The goblin King ignored Bilbo for the moment and the hobbit was shoved back in with the rest of them.

“Spies? Or maybe thieves? Or better yet assassins come to take me in my sleep?” The monstrous and gelatinous body jiggled disturbingly as he bellowed. All the while the goblins at his feet retrieved all of the food from the packs and handed it to him piece by piece for inspection and then consumption. “What do you do in these parts?” He paused to sniff and then consume some dried meat. “Speak, I say!”

There was a moment of silence, or at least as quiet it could get with the din the surrounding goblins was making.  
“Very well.” He said matter of factly as he polished off a prime piece of cheese. “If you will not talk we shall make you squawk.” This statement was met with thunderous shrieks of approval from those sitting around the throne room. It was so loud they almost drown out the next words their sovereign spoke. “Bring up the mangler and the bone crusher! And let us start with youngest!” At this he pointed at Ori. Who, while not the youngest, did have that certain anxious and uncomfortable air about his person to cause many to think he was younger than his years, making the incorrect assumption understandable. Whether Ori was the youngest or not Thorin was not about to see one of his own tortured because of his unwilling thick headedness to speak up when first given that chance.

“Wait!” Thorin thundered as he pushed through to the front, his voice echoing in the cavernous space.

“Well, well, well. Thorin Oakenshield, the King Under the Mountain, has been lurking on my doorstep like a dog.” The Goblin King bellowed, this time with laughter and sarcasm dripping from his voice in equal parts, as he bowed as much as he could with the body he had. His eyes had turned from glassy to sharp as steel with this new revelation. “But you, you don't have a mountain anymore do you? No kingdom makes for sorry king, doesn’t it?” Came his barbed rhetorical question, clearly meant to unseat and anger Thorin. Which it did, but he constrained himself to giving death glares instead of leaping at the foul beast, which never would have ended well in any situation.

The Goblin king continued on with the barbs, “You know, there is someone who would pay a pretty price for your pretty little head even if you are not a king. Just your head mind you, what else would an old enemy of yours want anyways? But you already know of whom I speak do you not,” he said in a gloating manner.

Thorin was disbelieving and flabbergasted at such an assertion, “Azog the orc was slain in battle long ago.” The dwarf bite out, not wanting to believe the claims, but deep in his stomach something that had always been there twisted into a knot of dread and pure hate.

The Goblin ignored him and sent off a messenger with the information that he had found the white orc’s prize.

Thorin was so outraged and confused at this new revelation he could have spit nails. Not wanting to endanger the others further, he kept it bottled in as best he could. Perhaps there could be a way to bargain for their lives if not for his.

It was at this moment that the Goblin king, so very pleased with how the situation was turning out, was handed a square hunk of cheese. He bit into it most likely expecting sharp dairy goodness, but got quite a shock instead.

Everyone paused for a moment as the great Goblin sputtered and spit out what he was eating. He sniffed the offended item with at first a grimace that turned slowly into malevolent smile.

“Why do forgive my manners,” He simpered. “Unless I am mistaken, I do believe we have a lady in our midst. Unless one of you dwarves has taken to bathing with flower scented soap.”

 

………………

 

Beth found herself dragged forward by a grasping hand gripping her hair. She tried to dig in her heels and hit off that claw of a hand but it was no use. The dwarves had tried to protect her but it had only served to show where she was hiding all the faster.  
She had only been catching bits and pieces of what was being said, which was not much at all since the enormous blob was speaking in such an accented way she really only had Thorin to go off of. Which really was not the best indicator of the conversation since the majority he had done was seethe in anger, clearly not wanting to say something that he might come to regret.

It was while she was being dragged forward that she saw her makeshift holster lying with the bags and such instead of the weapon pile where it rightly belonged. It took her a moment to realize that only she knew the power of that retrospectively little gun. If only she could get her hands on it, but what then? There was too many of these creatures for her to do much good, much less provide enough time for the others to break free and retrieve their weapons. However, she thought, perhaps they might be all too distracted at this unheard of weapon that they may just have enough of time to have a chance.

Before she could break free and act upon her, if not slightly ridiculous and suicidal, plan, Beth was forced to stand much too close to that boil-covered piece of lard then she cared to be.

She tried to flinch away when one of his long-nailed fingers came towards her face, but Beth’s escape was stopped by sharp objects at her back. So she was forced to let this Goblin King caress her face via dirty fingernail.

“What might such a pretty little human be doing with such an ugly assortment of dwarves I wonder?” The Goblin King mused as he allowed his eyes to rove lower. Beth not understanding his words stood frozen and silent with fear and confusion, hearing his meaning well enough.

“Perhaps, even dwarves need to have a little amusement?” He jibed gleefully. “One hears that there are no dwarf women at all so you all must have to have your fun in some way, am I right?” He posed directly at Thorin who snarled back in return. “Or maybe,” the Goblin King paused as his dipped lower as well pulling away both the coat and jacket she wore with hands like snakes. “She is more important than first would seem?”

“She is just a stray human we were taking to the next village, soft in the head really. She hardly speaks ten words in Westron let alone be able to do anything else.” Thorin said, lying through his teeth, trying to dissuade any further interest in Beth, but was cut off by a sharp glance by the Goblin king.

“And since when have stray humans been the concern of dwarves, or better yet to have possession of the trappings of the Ranger’s? I hardly think they give out silver stars to dullards.” He said as one finger tapped at the afore mentioned silver star that Beth had pinned to her shirt.

Before Thorin could think of a proper response, one of the smaller goblins going through their weapons came upon his sword, shrieking it threw it away.

Suddenly there was a madcap scramble of the goblins closest to it, including the Great Goblin.

Scrambling even further onto his chair he cried, “I know that sword! It is the biter, the goblin cleaver! Slash the dwarves as that sword did a thousand of our kind’s necks! Kill them! Kill them!” He bellowed, “And cut off Oakenshield’s head!”

 

………………

 

While Beth had not understood much of what had just occurred, she did however understand the command that had been given to kill her comrades. That had been easy enough to understand when the objects at her back disappeared, presumably to be used to kill as the goblin had ordered. She was going to make the most of the opportunity of losing her guards for the moment.

No one noticed her dive towards the bags, if only because it was not located anywhere near the weapons and was in fact even closer to the throne than she been before.

First grabbing her bag, which contained all of her extra ammo that she figured she would in fact need very soon. Beth then grabbed her holster. With trembling hands she flipped off the safety of the revolver and spun around armed and at the ready.

Any other moment she might have worried about being rusty from not practicing for so long, but there was no time to think. For all she could see was Thorin being held down by several goblins, about to have his head severed from the rest of his body.

Taking aim without thinking, she took in one deep breath and pulled the trigger. While, Beth had been expecting the bit of kickback from the shot, she had not expected the blinding flash of pure blue-white light much less be knocked down by said light right as she fired. The sound of the wave, covering up any noise made by her gunshot.

Goblins flew off the platform as Beth shielded her eyes with her arm from the piecing light where she had been thrown down. Her ears rang so badly that she could hardly stay conscious, and for a moment. She wondered who had been hiding a flash bomb on them this whole time, because it certainly was not her, until she had that now familiar flood of tingling pain that shot across her skin whenever there was much recent magic around. As she slowly started to get up like everyone else was, she saw that it was the missing Gandalf who had come to their rescue.

“Take up your weapons! Follow me quick!” Gandalf cried out to them all. And, Beth did just that, grabbing her short sword from the pile now so that she would not waste any ammunition for now. For it looked as if they had a fighting chance even without her one revolver.

 

………………

 

To say that Thorin was use to guts and gore when it came to the battlefield, would be an understatement. He, however, was not accustomed to seeing the faces of his enemies blown off with such extreme velocity from an invisible weapon.  
That had caused him to question his sanity for a moment. Faces did not simply fly off willy-nilly for no apparent reason. Even when he had been stunned by the light that had so quickly followed, it stuck in his mind that even while he could hear the sound of the wave of light as the face had disappeared. It had happened just a moment before the light had actually reached him.

Really, this would not be a problem if other goblins had also had their faces taken off in such a manner, but that was not the case as he could tell. So it had not been Gandalf's magic, to his knowledge, that had taken care of the goblin about to cleave his head from his body with a very rusty ax was dead in such a manner. In addition, even as he hacked his way through goblin after goblin following Gandalf’s mad dash to freedom, Thorin could not help but think that this happening was very important somehow. Whether it was the hand of Aulë striking down his enemy at such a time to confirm again his quest to retake Erabor, or if it somehow might have been less an act of a vala’s retribution and something much closer in nature.

He only could hope to survive the night to see if he would ever find out.


	17. A Bit of Magic

So far this night Gandalf had had a several things confirmed for him. Firstly, that any sort of habitable place to camp in the Misty Mountains was sure to lead to more trouble that it was worth. Second, goblins seemed to have started to smell worse than he remembered. Third, that he was getting rather use to swooping in as a last minute rescue, he was finding it rather fun to have a dramatic entrance. And lastly, that he had been correct in his assumption that Beth’s weapon, for it really was a weapon was similar to his rockets in nature.

Well in the way that bows are assuredly akin to their larger and more power cousins such as crossbows or their larger cousin the ballistae. But unlike those weapons hers was of a much more compact make, which Gandalf would have liked to assume was much too small to contain such, the only way he could put it as fire-arrow, without the weapon exploding on itself. He made note to ask her about its construction later. It was most assuredly a more concentrated form of the gunpowder and had a rather better ability for aiming and the like. The smallish hunk of metal was a powerful and compact weapon indeed. 

He had been slightly surprised when she had taken it out to begin with. It was not as if he had forgotten about it or anything like that, Gandalf had more just felt that it would have more factored in a worse situation. Then again she had fired it the same moment he had sprung into action, so obviously she had thought that there was not anyone else coming to help.

Overall though he really had not anticipated just how destructive such a small projectile could be. Perhaps he would have to ask if she knew how to construct more of these weapons, or maybe not. He would have to ponder over such a weapon being produced. For surely not everyone who would want such a destructive weapon would have good intentions. If such a design could be replicated by a clever blacksmith, which quite possibly would include all thirteen of the dwarves in their company, in company with some one like an alchemist or the like. Though he did note that wherever he found people inventing more and more powerful weapons that more strife and conflict seemed to follow, perhaps this world was not ready to have such weapons.

With practiced ease he slew a goblin in his path, his mind suddenly again in the present situation. He really must be getting old to let himself wander in the mind like that, with the horrible shrieks and war cries echoing up the passage they were running down pell-mell. The one he had just slain had been alone; thank the Valar, but other passages connecting to this one made it sound as though many more would be upon them within moments. He could only hope they were far traveling echoes, and not their pursuers actually gaining on them as fast as it sounded.

When they had first started running from the throne room he had counted everyone in their company as either following directly behind him or otherwise close behind. He had not heard any of the dwarves cry out in any other fashion then what they normally would when slicing through the occasional goblin who had chanced upon them most certainly by accident seeing as one of them had been followed by the hoards of others just yet. Bilbo was quite silent, though last he say the little Hobbit was being carried by Dori, Beth on the other hand was doing quite well on her own with keeping up with the speed their group needed to keep up if they wanted to possibly survive.

………………..

 

           

To say that Beth remembered much of anything during the dash though the caverns with, what she was sure then was hundreds if not thousands upon thousands of goblins all as ugly, would be a bit of a stretching of the truth. She hardly had taken the time to really take in the haphazard architecture of the main cavernous hall and that had only been because they had actually been in there for some time. She had been much to busy making sure to keep up with everyone else to take note of much else then what they were running though were very dark, damp, and narrow spaces.

She had to keep all of her concentration on both running and keeping from tripping and falling onto the sword that had been thrust into her hands. Apparently someone had gotten a grip of her sword as well as their own in the mad dash out of the cavern, she could only assume that meant no one had intact seen of even knew what her real weapon could do thanks to Gandalf's bit of magic. For magic was what that flash was, if the still tingling pains across all of her exposed skin was any indication. If she was to compare it to anything just at the moment it felt a whole lot like when one has been out on a bright day a bit too long and you could start to feel your skin start to pick and burn right before you started to get badly sunburned.

It also recalled to mind how her grandmother had always professed to knowing something was afoot for she would feel a pricking of her thumbs. Grandmother Hale had always been the more religious and superstitious kind, but Beth now wondered if her grandmother's old wives tale had held more truth then she had given them credit. Though a more amusing thought came to mind, perhaps she just came from a long line of humans allergic to magic?

Of course as quickly as that rather silly and very off the topic thought came and went through Beth's head something else came along to displace it from her thoughts. For up ahead, still some several hundred feet away, was a sliver of golden-orange light piercing the darkness in an unwavering manner. Indeed for this light came on from a fire or torch, but could only be coming from the sun.

 

………………..

 

None too soon Thorin found himself and the company all being bottlenecked into a very small exit from the mountain halls of the goblin king and out into pure air onto very conveniently the exact opposite side of the mountain that they had been before their capture.

And apparently they had been in the caverns for quite some time, for while it was not yet dusk just yet the shadows had started to lengthen and the light take on that golden hue that turned the grass somehow greener and bath the fir trees in halos of liquid golden light. It was Ori's favorite time to do drawings and the like, probably because of the higher contrast between the area of light and shadow. At the moment of course there was to be no stopping to draw or write.

While they had somehow gotten out of the caves alive it would soon be turning dark again, and the goblins would be again free to follow them under the cover of night. They would have to make as much of the time they had now to get as far away from the mountain side as they could. Without anyone even thinking to ask to stop, they all continued running and scrambling down the now rather slopping mountainside which was filled with boulders and trees they had to maneuver around. They all ran as if the hoard was directly behind them, for if they did not do so now they surely would be caught again at nightfall.

It was not until they had come, what felt like half way down the valley that sat below them that the whole group seemed to loose much of their initial burst of renewed energy after having come out of the caves and Gandalf took the opportunity to start counting them all. As some sat down on rocks of a perfect height for sitting and the rest leaned on their weapons, such as Dwalin did on his long handled ax, while Thorin himself stood with Orcrist still out and at the ready.

Thorin could not help but notice that Beth had sheathed her short sword and stood bent part way over with feet apart and hands resting heavily just above her knees. Even as her legs visibly trembled from the exertion they had just been taxed with, her face red and dripping with sweat, and her breathing hard, he could not help but admire how even now with how exhausted she obviously was that she still kept casting her gaze all about. A more unthinking person so unused to such a journey as she was might have just blindly assumed that others were keeping an eye out for danger, when it was times such as these that need ever pair of eyes to be looking about. Though everyone was rather jumpy still so to not be on the look out for yet another danger to pop up around from a not so distant tree.

He though he heard her muttering under her breath, but she did so in her first tongue so he did not catch much else but the occasional expletive that seemed to be rooted very closely indeed with Westron. Strange how similar her mother tongue was so close to the common tongue in some ways yet so different at the same time. Though he did have suspicious that some words may have been evolved from some elvish words as well if only for her non-guttural pronunciation in everything she said. Though he quite liked how she sounded over that of the elves. For while Beth may talk in their more nasally manner her voice was more earthy and varied in her soothing tones, it suited her talent in the healing arts, even if she did also have the vocabulary of a miner.

He also noted that she had again put away the oddly shaped hunk of metal that he was now rather reasonably sure was a weapon of some great power. The creative streak in him wanted to take it apart and see how such a small object could work, he always had it enjoyable to figure out how things worked. Though during his working with the human blacksmiths during his wanderings had not been conducive to such expenditures of time as they had always been after him to make another horse shoe, or a dozen more nails, or if he was incredibly lucky a sword or such.

Even then it had been all about quantity and not always quality, he still could not get over the fact at how poor some of the steel he had been expected to work with had been, much less the pittance of a wage he was usually able to get. But in true dwarf-ish fashion he had made many a fine sword out of what his forefathers would have considered being scrap metal at best and at worst to be the left over slag which they would have only have used in glassmaking, or even to make glazes for ceramics.

Indeed taking apart such a item would more then satisfy the analyst in Thorin, but such an item of course he imagined would have been crafted with some amount of magic. So it might not be the wisest to poke around it with out first inquiring with the weapon's owner first. He would not want it to explode in his hands or place some sort of curse now did he?

 

………………..

 

Beth had been ecstatic at the sight of the sunlight on the hills outside of the narrow cavern as had been everyone else. But now that the majority of the adrenaline pumping through her veins had abated, she now was just trying to stay upright as her leg muscles felt like were going to start spasm and contract at any given moment if she sat down.

What she really needed was some water and a salty snack to help replace all the water she was most certainly loosing from all the sweating she was currently doing. Honestly it was just horribly gross, she was even having to whip sweat off from her upper lip, much less the rest of her face which was most assuredly very red on top of it all.

Beth was however shaken from her thoughts about herself when Gandalf made an exclamation.

"Well I count 14 our company. But where is Bilbo?" Gandalf asked, but everyone went silent and did not asters him as everyone looked around and found his words to be true. "Where is he? Who last saw him?" The wizard demanded loudly.

"I was carrying him," Dori supplied sounding instantly defensive. "But a goblin grabbed my legs and pushed me down and I lost my grip on the hobbit. You would have dropped him too! I thought he was fine enough since he had still been with us when we were all at the feet of that creature. And here you come with your flashing lights just in the nick of time and yell for everyone to run and follow you which everyone should have done. And here we all thought everyone had and had no time to count, as you should yourself know, till we had dashed through the door. And finally arrived here all helter-skelter, and here we are no bugler when he should have followed as everyone else did. Even the girl had enough sense to stay with us." Ori declared loudly.

Much to Beth's chagrin at being held as the lowest bar on the scale of 'obvious things to do when under duress from goblins', she was a bit more concerned about the location of Bilbo. For she did like to consider the gentlemanly and unassuming hobbit to be a friend, for they had spent the most amount of time together from his lessons in the common tongue.

To her apprehension there started to be a lot of yelling between Gandalf and some of the dwarves, on whether or not they should go back or at very least wait for the lost Mister Baggins. With Ori and Thorin seeming to be the most vocal about leaving the halfling since goblins would have gotten him by now for certain if he had not turn tail and run back toward the Shire and his comfortable hobbit hole, with Gandalf not wanting to leave behind the person he had helped talk into coming along on this quest of theirs.

"With this late hour we can only hope that Master Baggins saw his chance and he took it. For we all know he has been pinning over his soft bed and warm home since we started this journey. Either way if he was befallen by goblins or left our company for home, we shall not be seeing out hobbit again. He is long gone."

At this the company was quieted by either one of the options, for while one would be a blow to their pride in having someone willingly leave the company but the halfling's death was a different kind of sobering feeling. And beth felt a heavy sick feeling settle deep inside her gut at the though of poor little Bilbo either lost and alone in such times or lying dead with his head smashed in from some goblin's ax.

"Nope, he isn't." Came Bilbo's voice from over Thorin's shoulder in a manner in which everyone was half convoked it was the halfling's spirit until their eyes rested upon his short form. Which while very much covered in dirt and looking worse for wear, was very much not a figment of any of their imaginations.

"Bilbo!" Gandalf and Beth exclaimed at the same time as everyone else seemed to jump as high as they could being as dog tired as they were, though Beth was rather sure that a few of them gave a bit of a shout from the fright and surprise as well. And it was in that moment that all of them who had doubted Bilbo's expertise as a bugler, which had been pretty much everyone other than Gandalf, doubted no longer. Though when asked on how he had come out of the caverns all on his own, Bilbo only said: "Oh, just crept along - very carefully and quietly as we hobbits can do." As he patted the front of his coat off seeing as how dirty it had become.  

"So you escaped to come back into our company did you?" Thorin asked, his questioned slightly barbed and referring back to his earlier words.

"Indeed I did perhaps think of turning back to Bag End for a moment or two when it got a bit touch and go, but I already have a home to go to when you all do not. I made up my mind to help you all regain yours again in whatever small ways I might be able to."

Though Thorin did not seem to take that short explanation as enough to explain the Hobbit's miraculous escape from the goblin's clutches. Beth could see that it bothered him to not know all the events, but he seemed to tamp down his questions for the time being seeing as the hobbit's response had stirred up such warm feelings among the rest of the company that it would have seemed very untrusting indeed to continue to badger the hobbit about it.

Beth could also tell that Bilbo's little speech had also struck home with Thorin himself. The want for home, she felt, was in many ways even more a driving force then even patriotic feelings. However Beth knew that she was most defiantly not going to fill that swelling in her heart with the home she use to know, she could only hope to find another and make it her own in this ever so similar yet so radically different world. She hoped she would live to see such a place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So with this I prove I am not dead!
> 
> I hope for this New Year to further revive this story, it has sat for far too long and I am sorry for that. But life happens, and now I am finally back to a point where I feel I can *fingers crossed* to get chapters out much more often then I have been. Though I will be grateful if my ever patient readers will bear with me as I get back into gear.
> 
> Here is to a great 2014!


	18. Into the Fire - Part I

Chapter 18

            After the company had finished wondering over Bilbo's newly revealed talents of being able to sneak out of impossible situations, they had all were on the look out for something to eat as well as any dangers. However the blackberries were only flowers yet with no signs of fruiting for some time, there were some tiny wild strawberries that everyone seemed to bend over and collect whenever someone stumbled upon some, but other than that Beth had little more then the cold water that ran in the mountain stream to fill herself up on. She had noticed Bilbo practically grazing on some green plant she was reasonably sure was sorrel, but she was not quite hungry enough to be eating leaves that looked little better then dandelion greens. She figured hobbits were driven by hunger even more than she felt right now to be eating such rabbit food. No one spoke unless it was imperative, almost as they were both concerning energy as well as making it all the easier to listen for danger.

However as the sun set their group found themselves coming upon land that was rocky and sparse of much vegetation that was not yellow, brown, and tinder dry. This area sloped off before them for quite a while before they came upon a group of pine trees that sat on the edge of an extremely high bluff that jutted out into the sky so much so that it was honestly more like a cliff.

The forest had taken on an eerie quite, which had been slowly building the past few long minutes as they had traveled down to the stand of pines. Indeed even what little breeze there might have been had disappeared and only replaced by the creak of leather shoes, the rasp of cloth against cloth, and all of their heavy breathing. For also like how the wind had breathed a final breath the light had started to fade quite rapidly. Beth could already pick out a few dozen of stars, as the sun bade its final farewell for the day before sliding down past the horizon.

The moon was already high and bright, the sky being unusually clear with harry a cloud in sight at the moment. It was the kind of clear sky that was not at all like those one usually sees on a dewy and wonderful summer night. Indeed it was stark and cold, with the darkening shadows from the pine trees surrounding them hardly keeping the gloom away. Even though there had been nothing yet to indicate danger was nearby, everyone seemed closely guarded.

"I feel we should go a bit further still." Said Gandalf, and everyone else only nodded in agreement. Not a one of them feeling that this was a nice place to stay, even with how tired they all were. For they were all running on fumes as Beth put it in her head. She could not help but compare their physical state to that of a car running on empty. Such saying were to normal to her to let them go with all these new and strange situations. Beth was however getting better at keeping them to herself, for such sayings either had no real parallels in Westron words much less in the dwarves', Gandalf's, or Bilbo's cultures. She had had a hard enough time explaining what a calculator was, and that was only because she had lied and said it was the exact same thing as an abacus. However she was not going to even try to have to explain what electricity was and how it made a calculator work, nor was she going to mention having a 'light bulb moment' for the very same reason.

Indeed Beth was horribly glad that they only seemed to recognize a few words of her own tongue, with the exception of Bilbo who had very quickly started to pick up on it while teaching her. He had a knack for languages, but she didn’t really want to explain some of the words she uttered. She had not thought herself to be a very dirty-minded person, but proper little Master Bilbo probably would have been aghast at the things she usually would not have thought twice about. Though sometimes she did have an overwhelming need to act or say something that would shock the whole company speechless, if only because she could. This moment, however, did not seem to be the best type of moment for such things. For away down the somewhere they could not see came a long shuddering howl, which chilled the blood in all of them.

 

………………..

 

Bilbo had been thinking of his poor battered feet when the first howl had traveled up the valley to them. He instantly forgot his bruised and battered toes, and aching muscles and went dead silent along with everyone else. No one dared so much as breath, hopping and praying to the valar that it was a lost wolf just looking for its pack, and not a scout out looking for their next kill.

But their hopes were torn apart when first one, and then a few dozen other wolves responded to the first. They were on the hunt, and from the sound of it they were all around their little band and not that far to boot. Even that much Bilbo knew from the shudder inducing sound of the wolves gathering. Even a hobbit who had no wolves running about in the Shire, his mother's side of the family had many an older cousin who had done some wandering and had gotten much enjoyment scaring little Bilbo Baggins by imitating such horrible sounds at family gatherings.

To hear it for real out in the wilds, either from the wargs or wolves, frightened him greatly indeed for it dredged up that fear that  had been imbedded so deeply into his mind that he was sure that only death would remove it. Bilbo, however, was trying to deny that time could be this very night. For he was rather certain he would not like to be torn apart by wolves at any time.

Master Baggins was also rather convoked that no matter how magical the ring he had found in the caves was, it could hardly do any good in hiding him from wolves with their keener sense of smell, so good one would hardly need to be seen for them to kill you.

He found himself voicing those fears, but Gandalf was a quicker thinker than he, thank the valar.

"Quick! Up the trees!" The wizard cried, and they all ran for the trees at the side of the glade where the branches hung the lowest.

Some of the dwarves jumped up into the branches above with great ease while he noticed others being given helping hands from their brother or other kinsmen, he saw Beth get hoisted up by the scruff of her jacket with a muffled yell come from her in surprise, though he never was quite sure how Gandalf in his old age had been able to climb so high or so fast without his seeing to event. Bilbo himself, having been a well-practiced climber of practically everything in his great youth much to his father's worry and his mother's amusement, found the skill to not be lost and easily scrambled up the slender branches. With the sounds of the wolves coming so near as to sound like they would be in the glade and under the trees within moments, none of them stayed anywhere near the bottom branches.

When Bilbo got as high in the branches that he felt as relatively safe as he might in such a situation, he let himself assess where everyone else was.

Looking about he found himself to be in the same tree as Dori, Nori, Ori, Oin, and Gloin, though he had climbed up straight past them without really noted their presence. Fili and Kili were together, as usual, at the top of a tall larch that none of the heavier dwarves could not have clambered up for the thinness of the branches. Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Thorin, and Beth were all in another tree like the one he was in, with its thicker branches that had grown in a more regular manner. Dwalin and Balin were in their own tree, still getting as high as they could, while he could barely see Gandalf up in a tree closest to the cliff's edge. The wizard, for how much taller he was, was more hidden then any of them seemed to be, with only the glint from his eyes being the only part of him that truly stood out as not natural to that pine tree.

Bilbo could only hope that Gandalf had some clever plan to get them out of this as he had done with the goblins.

 

………………..

 

Beth was feeling particularly manhandled tonight, or in more pointed fashion dwarf-handled. Honestly she had noticed that Thorin did seem to be looking out for her quite a bit, but she was hardly happy with it. Apparently the longer she was with these dwarves the more their thick headedness though she could do nothing on her own. Which apparently included climbing trees, even Bilbo had not been given a 'helping hand' as she was and they had just put him under her in the bar of ability to act quickly. Though since the hobbit had gotten out of the goblin's caverns all on his own, probably had changed that assumption, leaving her back down at the bottom of the heap...again.

Having Thorin heave her up into the tree had not also hurt her pride, Beth was quite sure that if he had gotten a grip on her arm rather then the back of her jacket as he had, the dwarf would have ripped her shoulder out of it's socket. She made note to perhaps mention the whole issue of him needing to keep his strength in check around her, seeing as her relationship with his strength could be defined rocky at best. Truly she was slightly amused that at their first meeting he had been trying to exterminate her while now, not that much later, was looking out for her. Even if he did seem to act that it was a big bother to do so. Even now he had a hand subconsciously placed on the small of her back to apparently make sure she did not suddenly decide to fall or something.

Even now he had practically tossed her into branches higher then the one he was currently perched on. How he managed to look so hawk like alighted on that branch while Beth tried to cling to her own branch in a manner she was sure that was on the opposite end of ‘hawk-like’.

She kept her thoughts to herself, for just then with a howling that came seeming from underneath their feet, there appeared what seemed like hundreds of eyes all looking up at them as if they had spotted dinner.

Beth, sensing the direness of the situation tried to not even breath, even at seeing what she was sure to be hundreds of pairs of glowing eyes staring up at them as the wolves continued to gather and swarm at the bottom of the trees. For a moment that felt much longer than it actually was, there came a horrible silence filled with just the snorts and snuffs of the wolves along with the padding of their feet all around them. They looked more to be inky shadow beasts than flesh and blood animals, their tails swept behind them in a majestic yet terrifyingly confident manner.

One of them, seemingly the leader of the pack barked out something that she of course did not understand seeing as she was human after all, and several pairs of eyes turned away from the run off in several directions sending cries into the night before them.

“He calls for his pack to find the white warg and his master.” Came a muffled translation from Gandalf, apparently he could understand if not speak wolf or warg or whatever it was Beth thought. She was having trouble telling the difference between the two, but figured that wargs were at the very least larger than normal wolves.

Beth could feel Thorin tense up at those words, she could only assume that this 'master' of the white warg was the little talked of white orc that the goblin king had spoken off. His large hand, which had been lightly supporting her back, became so horribly tense with anger that she was quite sure that it was slightly trembling with the intensity of his mood. She did not know what had gone on between the orc and Thorin, but she was sure it was not good to evoke such loathing at the mere mention of the creature. She was not about to ask, it was hardly the time for such things.

 


	19. Into the Fire - Part II

It was not long after the main leader of the wargs had sent off his messengers, when Thorin could hear the sounds of more slightly farther away wargs howling as if on the hunt. The messengers had apparently found whom them had been sent to find, namely the orc that Thorin hated the most, Azog.

He was not allowed to keep his mind on the white orc for long, for when the large wolves beneath them, that had been thus far been just milling about the roots of the pine’s, suddenly became riled up. It started rather suddenly, first one large thud upon the tree trunks of first one tree and then another. It did not take the dwarves prince long to figure out that some of the largest looking wolves, which were honestly the size of wargs, were throwing their substantial girth against the trees. Their size and strength caused the trees that were under their attack, to groan and shake under the stress. Apparently the soil was not so packed as what might be needed for these trees to stay upright. Years of wind had likely eroded away at the pin tree’s root systems, and it was only starting to show now when deeply grown root structure would have been a good thing, but alas they were not.

With how the tree he was in was shaking, Thorin did not think that it would be standing much longer. His mind raced of what to do when a great cracking groan on of the trees starting coming down. With two great cried Kili and Fili jumped from their high perch into the neighboring tree that Thorin, Beth and the others were in, with a creak cracking of limbs from both their jump as well as the now felled tree on the ground.

Even as his nephews grappled to stay in this tree, Thorin felt as if it was going to follow suit as the first one very soon. During this time he had not realized his hand was still steadying Beth until she had turned in such a manner that dislodged his hand from her back.

His head turned toward her and saw Beth slowly getting her footing on the branch she had been sitting down on not moments before, hands grasping at branches to both of her sides to not be dislodged from her position as she moved. She looked petrified as another warg through itself against the tree shaking it with more vigor than before. But there was a change in her face, which Thorin somehow knew meant she had made up her mind, as terrified as she was, to jump over to the other tree that Gandalf was in before theirs was going down.

He wanted to stop her. Help her. Keep her protected. But he knew there was no time for that since she would probably get angry with him for doing so. Now was no time to have any kind of argument, even with a human girl who could only get out a little passible Westron that did not include swears. The look upon her face when he had hoisted her into the tree not that long ago had been clear in her dislike for such displays that she felt only showed that he though she was weak. Really he was more afraid of what she would do or where she might go if Beth Hale ever came into her own and no longer needed his help at all. But, Thorin could not help watching her run down as far as she could down the thickest part of the limb before launching herself into the thin air between the trees, a stone settling heavily in his gut that would not dislodge itself even when he saw her catch hold of a limb and scrambled over to the other side of the tree to make way for others to follow.

 

………………..

 

Beth could not believe how fast the other trees had fallen; seemingly not moments after she had jumped there was a mass exodus by the dwarves and one hobbit into the very tree that they were in with Gandalf now.

Even now she thought she could see shapes farther off in the darkness, but her human eyes were not as shape as the dwarves in the darkness. But from the whispered words that she could catch from them, someone, likely Ori, had caught glimpse of a white warg with a rider. She could only assume it was the white orc come to demand whatever he wanted of Thorin. For this they had been cornered in the last tree right no the edge of the cliff, the wolves had eased up on their attack in the slightest bit, but never letting them think they had been forgotten. They were waiting till this powerful beast gave his word, whatever it may be.

It was in this lull that Gandalf started to mount their defense. Beth’s exposed skin had prickled uncomfortably moments before Gandalf suddenly had a flaming pinecone held in his hands. Magic she was sure, for whom in this time period who just summon fire without use of a lighter or flint in this day and age?

Gandalf used this first pinecone to light a few others before passing them to to waiting hands of the dwarves who instantly had figured out his plan. For the brush and now felled trees were tinder dry and would make a cheery firewall to keep the wolves and wargs at bay. Soon the night was lit up with flaming pinecones flying through the air, hitting wolves and brush non-discriminately. There were some horrible cries and the smell of burnt fur that quickly filled the air, just as the orcs riding several large wargs appeared on the top of the hill. Beth could not help but grin, for surly the monsters had not expected their prey to have found such an ingenious way to fight back.

The wolves were in chaos, fleeing this way and that, some with burning fur and snapping at their brothers in their anger and fright. Beth did not join in with the throwing of pinecones partly since she was sure that dwarfish hands were apparently no so impervious to fire as she was really sure hers were, as well as she was much to busy holding onto the tree for dear life as this all went on around her. She did not need second degree burns to hinder her ability to cling to the tree bark.

The orcs cried out, in what she assumed to be orc-ish since she understood not a word of it, but they did sound a bit more than miffed with all of the wolves running away in a confused mass. While the dwarves yelled triumphantly as the wolves turned tail.

This celebration was however cut very short indeed when this tree that had provided the pinecones that had helped them so greatly seemed to have had enough and started to fall with a sad grinding of the roots being torn from the ground.

Beth felt her heart seem to stop as they surely were going to hurtle down into the valley floor so far below, but just as suddenly as the tree had fallen it came to a horrible shuddering stop, with a screech and a shake.

It was not until the fallen pine had stopped moving for the most part that Beth really realized what an awkward and strange position she had been stuck in as she had been scrabbling to keep a hold of anything substantial, as it had fallen. She was clinging to a, thankfully, thick enough branch that seemed like it would support her weight, clutching to it with both her set of arms and legs wrapped around it in such a way that she was straddling it. Against her better judgment she looked down, only to see that where the cliff ended. It was a sudden drop into thin air for what she could only see as hundreds of feet, at the bottom of which was a rocky bottom that was hardly hospitable looking at the moments.

She was also rather sure that during the fall she had yelled out in a horribly high pitched and unusually feminine manner, but she was not entirely sure of that fact. If they lived she might have to ask someone, but Beth also knew even as that crazy question passed through her head that she likely would not remember to ask such a silly query if they did some how manage to live through this night. For it was looking very much like they were going to end up either smashed on the rocks so far below or have their bones crunched on by the powerful jaws of the wargs that where now pacing just beyond the fire. The battle having turned back again into their favor.

Arid smoke that stung her eyes from the pinesap, as everyone seemed to be having a bit of trouble trying to keep ahold of the branches and limbs that had once help them so securely. When suddenly the weight of both the bullet box in her jacket pocket where she had placed it during heir escape from the caves if she had need of it, as well as her revolver that sat nestled against her hip it it’s haphazard holster she had made herself with bits of leather bound to her belt. She had quite forgotten about both things till this moment, but perhaps this might be a good time to make use of them.

While the other’s continued to throw flaming pinecones with wonderfully amazing accuracy, Beth shimmied her weight around until she was straddling the branch instead of hanging onto it like a squirrel. It was when she finally righted herself Beth, along with everyone else that the orcs had gotten their ugly steads under control and now swarmed were the fire was waiting for a section to die down. The largest of them, the white one, was trying to stare them down through the flames as if his gaze could kill.

As Beth was trying to reach with her free hand to grasp the box of bullets she thought she was actually going to catch it without much trouble. That was until a particularly large jerk of the tree, shook her with such force that the fallen pine groaned agonizingly and needles were shaken off by the fistful. Beth was jostled and suddenly felt the small yet weighty paper box, with all of it’s priceless contents, jostled from her finger tips instead of staying in her hand as it should have.

She leaned forward with such a velocity that while she was somehow able to gasp the heavy box firmly Beth found herself having leaned forward way too much and was pitching forward to fall into the open air just below her. She was only saved by digging her fingernails of her free hand into the bark-covered branch in a painful manner, she was rather sure she might have ripped out some of them. But it was better than plummeting downwards.

It was about then that Beth was disturbed from trying to carefully open that slippery paper box, when from the periphery of her vision she saw a sudden movement. Freezing at her work she looked up to see Thorin having stood up and walking slowly down the tree trunk. It was obvious he was making his way over towards the flame, sword drawn, the blade glinting and glittering in the firelight.

 

………………..

 

To say Bilbo was rather surprised at himself when he had stood up on a burning tree and ran rushed towards a fully grown warg with his little sword drawn. He had been absolutely terrified for the majority of the night, still was in fact. But something had snapped in him. Perhaps it had started back in the caverns, or when he had found out the little golden ring’s powers. He was hardly sure, but certainly some part of it had been when Thorin had first walked and then started to run into the seemingly figurative and literal jaws of death.

With the flames and sparks all-around the dwarf prince, with many landing on his coat and fur trim only to go out with a horrible looking fizzle, Bilbo saw in that moment the leaders of old. Those men, elves, dwarves, and even a few rare brave hobbits who stood up against formidable or even impossible odds to defend themselves and their friends to the very last.

It has been in that moment that when he saw Thorin go down underneath the huge crushing blown from the orc’s mace and into the jaw’s of the white warg, with no one to support him, that Bilbo had found himself suddenly moving. Even as Thorin landed a hit with his swords onto the beast’s side and was thrown onto a pile of rocks for his trouble, Bilbo did not stop moving.

He had no time to think of what he was doing until he had literally thrown himself at the orc who was about to cut off Thorin’s head.

Somehow with help from his speed and his huge amount of surprise on his side, if not a pile of luck, Bilbo toppled the orc over. It was over in a flash of steel and blood. And the still terrified Hobbit found himself rising up, the orc at his hairy feet. Sure the orc had not been the giant of the one the white orc was, but to a hobbit all orcs where very large in comparison.

Adrenaline rushed through his veins, but even that did not take off the sting of terror that flooded his brain as the slain orc’s warg lunged at him. Bilbo wanted to screw his eyes shut, he had no time to move to defend himself. His little stand of courage even as he had been dripping in fear was about to end with him dead after all. Suddenly there was a loud bang, and the warg sort of convulsed in stride as it nearly knocked Bilbo over instead of tearing at him with its huge fangs.

Bilbo lay on the ground, completely stunned from the fall. He could only blink for what seemed like hours though it must had been only a few seconds. For when he looked in the direction from where the practically supernatural sound had come from he clearly saw Beth.

She stood not ten feet away pointing the useless piece of melt, that seemed to be smoking slightly from the opening, at the beast had that had been out to kill him. She herself seemed to be swathed in fire from behind, only the white areas of the whites of her eyes testifying that she was just as scared as he.

Bilbo was stunned, to only from the blow when he had hit the ground but also that horrible banging noise. Even when she barked out to him something in her own tongue, which he translated in his head to meaning something along the lines of ‘get up’, he could not find it in his strength to move.

“Bilbo! Move! Thorin requirement help!” Beth was able to force out in Westron before turning her attention to the now horrified looking and outraged orcs. Bilbo could not help but remain frozen for a while longer as the human girl pointed that hunk of metal at another pair of charging wargs. The thunderous noise came once then twice and the beasts both toppled over in succession, holes in each ones skull as if struck with an invisible spear.

 

………………..

 

Beth could feel her whole body trembling, but she forced herself remain calm. After the second warg had fallen at her feet, the rest of the wargs and orcs had seemed to think it best not to just charge her. One of them spat out a word she was sure was either witch or the other word that was rather close in pronunciation. She decided witch suited her needs best in this situation, the fear of the supernatural seemed ingrained in these creatures as it had been with the goblins.

At this point she knew she had only three more bullets in the chamber, if the orcs all decided to charge her at once she would only be able to take a few more down if her aim was true. Beth was reasonably sure that she would not be able to reload quickly enough before being taken down. She hardly wanted to be eaten, so she did something only slightly less stupid than just rushing at them head on hoping they would run away in pure terror. Instead she gave them what they though they saw, a witch.

Waving the revolver above her head she screamed at them in her own language. Mainly just because it was all her brain could think of, but she did figure that it might sound a whole lot more like she was casting a spell, they didn’t need to know she was pretty much just spouting random lines from different plays she had been forced to study in university. Apparently the great tragedies from 500 years ago had stuck with her a bit more then she realized.

This was just after she had ran out of breath that a weird silence fell over the whole space. The fires, that were now starting to die quickly, only murmured when they had been roaring not long before. Right was one orc rider and warg seemed to think it a good idea to start forward upon the 'witch' again, a huge feathered creature streaked across them and picked them both up before dropping them over the side of the mountain.

Suddenly it was a mad house, with orcs and wargs alike truing to scramble away for it really did seem like Beth had summoned some wrathful creature into their midst. However she knew that was not the case since all she really had been yelling just random bits and pieces of plays that had made no sense at all much less could have been any kind of curse. What kind of curse included "your mother was a rat and your father smelt of sambucus" anyways?

Her line of thought was however, rudely, interrupted when one of these huge birds, which she rather sure were overly large eagles, scooped her up in its claws and dropped her into the darkness below.


End file.
